Christmas Wrapping
by heavenhelpmyheart
Summary: A chance encounter between fashion columnist Kurt Hummel and Off-Broadway actor Blaine Anderson leads to a year of sporadic romance, equally encouraged and disrupted by friends, careers, and Fate. Based on the song 'Christmas Wrapping' by the Waitresses.
1. Winter 2016-2017

**A/N: Hello my lovelies. This is the fic, the plot based on the song 'Christmas Wrapping' by _The Waitresses_, that has been taking over my brain for about... the past two weeks maybe. So, to anyone who reads me normally, I'm _sorry. However,_ new chapters of everything are in the work, so just be a little more patient. To anyone that doesn't read me normally, feel free to do so and I apologize for my excessive, gratuitous author's notes. This fic is fully written, will be five chapters (each about five thousand words each) with an epilogue (the number of words I don't yet know. Without further ado, here is Christmas Wrapping. I hope you enjoy.**

* * *

******Winter 2016-2017**

"Rachel, I don't even like skiing," Kurt argued, knowing it was hopeless. Juggling his phone and trying to cook the ridiculously challenging recipe he had decided to prepare for the first time he had seen Mercedes in six months was not as easy as he had thought it would be, Kurt decided as he grabbed the rosemary and almost dumped his phone in his pot in the process. "I certainly don't have the equipment for it."

"_Come on, Kurt, it's almost Christmas!_" Rachel replied, unusual happiness shining through her voice. She and Finn hadn't panned out, as Kurt had suspected they wouldn't since they tried to get married senior year, but she had a wonderful boyfriend who made her smile like crazy. Paul reminded him of a much nicer, less dramatic, and less narcissistic Jesse, and Rachel was head-over-heels in love with him. "_Everyone's coming here for the holidays, and we're all going to have fun skiing slash snowboarding together. We'll have races and hot chocolate, and I'm sure you and us girls will spend most of our time in the lodge gossiping anyway! We have so much to catch up on._"

"Well, since participating in the snowboard races seems to be the life course leading to an early death, I suppose gossiping in the lodge won't be too bad. Ski equipment is expensive though." Rachel scoffed before Kurt had even finished his sentence.

"_Kurt, I know you're not hurting for money over there_." Kurt sighed. She knew him too well. After three and a half very successful years at the New York Academy for Dramatic Arts, Kurt had worked as much of the Broad Way as possible before he realized he didn't want the frustration he was facing for his range to dictate his life, and he returned to working for Vogue's web site, Isabella still there and more than happy to have him back. Once he had progressed past intern, he found out how very lucrative that business was, and he was thriving. "_Buying ski equipment won't be a big deal. Noah's coming here from LA, why don't you consult him?_"

"No thanks, Rachel. I'll just go to the nearest ski equipment store and get ripped off. I dealt with Puck enough in high school." He was being sarcastic and Rachel knew it. Even though all of the New Directions had gone their separate ways, they still remained close and he was excited to see _everyone_.

"_Fine, have it your way._" Rachel cleared her throat and Kurt knew she was about to ask something uncomfortable. He knew Rachel better than he knew himself at this point, and vice versa. "_I-I was, um, wondering if you're bringing anyone to the r-reunion? Just so I know the seating plan_," she added quickly, and Kurt rolled his eyes. Years later, and Rachel still couldn't be tactful without stuttering.

"No, Rachel, I'm not bringing anyone," he said firmly, knowing this would develop into a conversation he really didn't want to have.

"_No one since Adam? Really?_" Rachel asked, and she sounded saddened. Kurt huffed at the name of his college boyfriend, who had turned out to be a cheater and a liar, despite how many years they had been together.

"Rachel, I'm perfectly happy alone, thank you. It's been a while since I was single, and I'm enjoying it. Adam and I were together for almost five years, I think I'll enjoy playing the field for a while. You were single for a while after you and Brody broke up sophomore year," Kurt pointed out, and Rachel sighed.

"_I suppose you have a point, but I wish you had someone to make you as happy was I am, Kurt_," Rachel said, sounding sincere.

"Rachel, I think that's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me that didn't contain the word 'um'," Kurt joked, making Rachel laugh in spite of herself. "And for right now, I make myself happy, and I'm very happy that everyone's coming to New York for Christmas. That's enough."

"_Are you sure? Paul knows some guys-"_

"Rachel, under no circumstances am I letting you set me up on a date. Do you remember the last time that happened?" During a quick break he and Adam had taken during his junior year at NYADA, Rachel tried to set him up with a guy who worked at her favorite sheet music store, who had turned out to be a religious wacko who had only wanted to save him.

"_Abraham was just bad luck!_" Rachel argued, but it was a moot point, and she knew it. Kurt had vowed once he returned from the date, drenched in holy water and irritated, that Rachel was never allowed to stick her ridiculously-Jewish nose in his dating life again. So far he had stuck to that promise pretty well, and he wasn't about to start now.

"Thanks, but no thanks, Rach. I'm happy, and I will go pick up ski equipment tomorrow." Kurt very carefully did not mention what he was up to that night. He and Mercedes needed some time to chat without her annoying but lovable presence, and if she knew she would show up with wine and insert herself into their bonding time.

"_All right, sweetie. Goodbye love_."

"Goodbye love," Kurt replied, the same ritual they had used since they were roommates.

* * *

He really should have consulted Puck, he realized as soon as he stepped into the Eastern Mountain Sports on the corner of Broadway and Spring Street and realized he had absolutely no idea what he was doing with any of the things in the store. He really should have listened to his step-brother more often when they were living together, Kurt decided as he looked around the store. Let's see, he needed a helmet, boots, skis, poles, and winter clothes, if they had them.

"You look a little lost." Kurt turned to meet his savior, and found a man with slicked-back, dark hair staring at him with big hazel eyes and raised eyebrows. "Walk into the wrong store?" Kurt decided not to take that as judgment.

"Do you work here?" the man laughed and shook his head.

"Not really, I just need to get new skis, mine are starting to wear. You look like you could use some help though, and the people that _do_ work here are more than happy to give you the most expensive product they have, even if it isn't the best." Kurt tried to focus on the man's words and not how cute his smile was. What the heck? He wasn't a teenager anymore, why was he acting like one?

"Do they get commission or something?" the man nodded, rolling his eyes.

"The perfect way to corrupt your workers. Yes, they get commission on everything I think, or at least some kind of cut for the amount of expensive sales they make. So what are you looking for?" the man asked, glancing around the store.

"Everything," Kurt admitted. "My crazy high school friends decided we should go up north skiing before Christmas, neglecting the fact that most of us live in cities and thus have no skiing experience or equipment," Kurt said, rolling his eyes at his loveably insane former team members.

"So, boots, poles, skis, helmet, and you might want to stop by REI for the clothes. It's just up two blocks and down East Houston one, but it has much better prices on apparel. What size shoes do you wear?" the man asked, and Kurt tried not to blush as he answered.

"Eleven." To the man's credit, he just raised an eyebrow and consulted the chart on the wall before picking out a pair of boots. He didn't say anything.

"Here you go. These are the kind I used to have, they're durable but not too heavy, and they'll last you forever, so you don't have to come back here," the man's brow creased, "unless you're still growing. Try them on."

"I'm twenty-four," Kurt said indignantly, but it was hard to be indignant when he couldn't figure out how to open the damn boots the man had given him.

"Here," the man said, kneeling next to Kurt like he really did work there and quickly undoing the snaps on the boots, "and I'm sorry, but you do _not_ look twenty-four."

"I know," Kurt said with a sigh, slipping his feet into the boots and finding them the perfect size. They weren't tight, but they wouldn't slide around on his feet either. "I still get carded everywhere."

"Take it as a compliment," the man said, showing Kurt how to unsnap and re-snap the boots.

"Your comment or getting carded?" Kurt asked as he successfully snapped up his boots for the first time.

"Both," the man said with a grin, and Kurt blushed again. He was never going to grow out of that, was he? "And with those boots, you need some skis. Do you have any preferences on the make or shape?" Kurt stared at him blankly. "Didn't think so. I'm guessing you're not the daredevil who's going to be taking on the biggest slopes either, so these should work," the man said, pulling some skis off the wall.

"So, do you cater to everyone who walks in here?" Kurt asked as the man adjusted the skis to fit the boots he had picked out.

"Only the cute ones," the man said with a smile, strapping Kurt to his new skis. "Perfect," he said appreciatively.

"Great, thanks," Kurt said, trying to stand up and quickly landing back on his butt, thankfully on the bench.

"I was talking about you, but don't try to stand in those," the man warned too late.

"Perhaps warn before flirting?" Kurt suggested, and the man chuckled.

"Too forward?" he asked, and Kurt smiled a little.

"Maybe. I don't even know your name," Kurt realized, feeling a little bit like an idiot.

"Blaine Anderson," the man introduced himself, "amateur songwriter, off-Broadway actor, and ski shop helper extraordinare." Kurt giggled at that.

"Kurt Hummel," he said in reply, "fashion columnist for Vogue online and hopeless case."

"I think those skis will work just fine for you, Kurt," Blaine said, getting back to their business. "You're what, five eleven?" he asked.

"Almost exactly."

"I worked wardrobe and set for a while before I was an actor. You have to be good at guessing accurate height and weight, or you will get slapped. _Repeatedly_," Blaine said with a laugh, answering Kurt's unasked question. "These poles should work for you then," he said, handing over a pair. "All you need now is a helmet."

"Are you going to try to guess my weight now?" Kurt teased as he unsnapped his boots from his feet and attempted to unsnap his boots from his skis.

"Nope," Blaine said with a laugh, looking over the helmets. "I've made that mistake before, not gonna happen again." Kurt giggled at that as Blaine picked a helmet off the rack. "Try this one," he said, putting the goggles up and helping Kurt get it on. "Fit?"

"Yep," Kurt said, feeling a little breathless this close to his... shopping partner, Kurt realized. Nothing else.

"Good," Blaine replied, but he sounded a little breathy too. "Red's your color," he commented as he pulled the goggles down, and Kurt felt the strong deja vu. "I think that'll do it," he decided once he had adjusted the goggles for Kurt's face. Kurt pulled the helmet off himself as Blaine gathered his purchases.

"Was there a reason you're in the store?" Kurt asked as he realized the only things Blaine had even looked at were for him. Blaine paused.

"Crap... there _was_," Blaine said with a laugh. "I'm sure I'll remember it once you stop distracting me," he teased, and Kurt blushed again. "Doesn't really matter what I was here to buy, I'm meeting a friend."

"Oh," Kurt replied eloquently as his heart sunk. "I see."

"A _female_ friend," Blaine said, and Kurt felt even more stupid." Of course, Blaine had been just teasing. Sadistically, cruelly, unnecessarily teasing.

"I see," he repeated, trying not to sound surly.

"No, Kurt, I mean _just_ a friend," Blaine clarified again, making Kurt's heart leap up from his toes and stick somewhere in his throat.

"Oh," Kurt said again, but in a much brighter tone, and Blaine chuckled.

"Yeah," Blaine said with a smile. "Full disclosure: I'm gay, single, and _very_ interested." Wow, Blaine put it all out there.

"Full disclosure?" Kurt asked and Blaine nodded. "That makes two of us," he replied, pushing the buzzer and waiting to finally see someone who actually worked there.

"What can I get for you?" the rather sour-looking cashier asked, eying Kurt and Blaine flirting with an openly-disgusted face. "This'll be it?"

"Yes," Kurt replied. Meanwhile, Blaine had stolen a Sharpie from their jar, making the cashier glare at him, and was in the process of stealing Kurt's hand.

"This," he said as he wrote on the hand he had stolen, "is my number, in case you believe in chance encounters." Kurt didn't stop to question the cheesy, old-fashioned, 'write my number on your hand' stunt.

"That'll be nine hundred and ten dollars," the cashier said loudly, obviously trying to break up their little exchange. Blaine gaped, clearly not having thought about the price, while Kurt handed over the money and picked up his new objects.

"I'm starting to," Kurt replied to Blaine, taking the bag that contained his boots and helmet, grabbing his skis and poles, and heading outside.

* * *

"This isn't as awful as I had imagined it," Kurt admitted as he sipped hot chocolate with Rachel, Mercedes, Tina, Santana, Brittany, Quinn, and Sugar at the lodge. While there had been other members of the Glee club while some of them (Tina, Brittany, and Sugar) were there, this was the Nationals winning team, and the closest portion of the New Directions.

"And you told me you didn't have ski equipment," Rachel said, tutting. "This stuff is gorgeous, and red has always been your color," she commented, indicating his helmet.

"I _didn't _have ski equipment. I got this all last week, after we talked," Kurt said, and he couldn't help but smile as he thought back to his afternoon at the sports store.

"You're smiling," Quinn teased. "Spill." The lights in the lodge glinted off of the rock on her finger as she took a sip of her hot cocoa. Despite all her troubles and bad romantic decisions, after she graduated from Yale as a happy, _single_, magna cum laude, she had met a wonderful man who was a neurosurgeon, and their date was set for a year from now, in the spring.

"I may have met a guy there," Kurt admitted, and the girls giggled and wolf-whistled, making him blush. "Ladies, calm yourselves."

"What do you mean you _may_ have met a guy there?" Mercedes asked, nudging him. She teased him constantly about guys, despite her equally single status.

"I want the _story_," Sugar sang out excitedly, and she had clearly been taking vocal lessons from Rory, who had just moved to the States after college and rekindled their relationship. She and Artie had only lasted a few weeks after their graduation.

"Just that I haven't talked to him since and we didn't actually plan anything," he replied to Mercedes. "And there's no story. We met, he helped me pick out my ski stuff, and we parted ways."

"Oh, sweetie, he worked there?" Rachel asked, using her pitying voice again.

"No, actually, Blaine was just there to get some new skis and help out the man who had absolutely no idea what he was doing. He's actually an off-Broadway actor," Kurt replied, and he couldn't help but sound a little smug.

"Wait, Blaine _Anderson_?" Rachel asked, smiling.

"You know him?" Tina asked.

"I've worked with him before, but he probably wouldn't remember me. He is _fine_," Rachel said, nudging Kurt. "Good choice."

"So, plans to get a piece of that?" Santana asked, and her vulgar attitude had cooled a little since she and Brittany had eloped her junior year of college, but she was still Santana, just a monogamous version.

"I told you, we didn't make any plans," Kurt repeated.

"Do you know anything about him?" Tina asked. "Where he lives, where he works, what show he is doing?"

"I have his phone number," Kurt replied as the girls slowly picked apart his fairytale notions. "What am I doing?" he asked with a sigh. "I'm way too old to be making up relationships in my head."

"Can you do that?" Brittany muttered to Santana, who just kissed her softly in reply.

"No!" Rachel exclaimed suddenly. "You can't give up on this, Kurt!" Everyone at the table was taken aback at her reaction.

"Crazy white girl over there," Mercedes said, gesturing to Rachel, "who is no longer allowed to drink coffee before we leave if this is what happens, may have a point. What's the harm in chasing? You like him, at least what you know of him, you know how to get in touch with him, maybe you can see where this goes."

"You should find out what show he's in," Tina added. "It'll give you a chance to find out a little more about him."

"Wait, you said he gave you his number, right?" Quinn asked for confirmation, and Kurt nodded. "Did you give him yours?" Kurt shook his head. "So that makes you the one who's not calling him," Quinn said, and Kurt hadn't thought of it that way.

"Relax, Quinn, it was only last week. Hummel doesn't want to seem _that _desperate for dick," Santana commented with a roll of her eyes, and didn't repent when everyone scoffed at her and Rachel made a face.

"I'll call him tomorrow," Kurt decided firmly. "Meanwhile, I think we have a rant to hear about Paul, Mercedes to tease for being single, Tina, Santana, and Brittany to make fun of for being married ladies, Quinn to nag about the planning of her wedding, and Sugar to investigate on how things are doing with our naturalizing Rory." Rachel started in on her diatribe almost immediately after Kurt had stopped talking.

* * *

Three o'clock, Kurt had decided, was the best time to call someone. It's after lunch, but before dinner, there's no chance that Blaine's asleep, but he wasn't going to interrupt anything either, probably. Kurt really hadn't planned this well, he decided once Blaine answered and Kurt could hear the madness that was rehearsal behind him.

"_Hello? Who's this?_" Blaine asked, and Kurt almost replied testily before he realized Blaine would have no way of knowing that it was him.

"Hi, Blaine," Kurt said softly, then, realizing that probably didn't help, "it's Kurt."

"_So I realized,_" Blaine said, and Kurt could tell by his voice that he was smiling. "_Your voice is pretty distinctive, you know._" He had a point. "_Pretty and distinctive,_" he corrected himself, making Kurt smile.

"I just realized I had never called you, so..." Really? That was the best he could come up with?

"_I'm glad you did, but as you might have guessed by the cacophony behind me, I'm a little busy right now. I'm at rehearsal,_" Blaine explained, as if Kurt hadn't realized that.

"I know," Kurt replied before he thought about it. "I mean, I used to be on Broadway, so the sounds and the time of day led to one logical conclusion," he explained before Blaine could accuse him of being a stalker.

"_You were on Broadway?_" Blaine asked, and he sounded surprised. "_I'm jealous, I keep getting callbacks that lead nowhere._"

"I could give you some references if you'd like," Kurt said, and he hadn't thought that one through either. He didn't know how good Blaine was. "Of course, I would have to come see your show first, to see how talented you are," he added, realizing the excellent opportunity he had given himself.

"_Sounds good_," Blaine said, obviously excited. "_I'm Roger in _RENT _at New World Stages. That's-_"

"West 50th between 8th and 9th," Kurt finished his sentence. "I know."

"_I look forward to seeing you there... well, here,_" Blaine said with a laugh. "_However, I should go, or I might not have a show to perform in. I'll see you soon?_"

"Definitely," Kurt replied before Blaine hung up.

* * *

"_RENT_?" Rachel asked as they walked through the doors of the New World Stages that Friday. "Would you like to explain to me why you're taking me to a show I've not only seen a hundred times, but _performed in on Broadway_, the day before Christmas Eve?"

"Because," Kurt replied as they took their front-row seats, extremely happy with the connections he still had, "Blaine happens to be staring in this particular rendition of _RENT_." Rachel squeaked, excited as he was.

"I could have told you how talented he is," Rachel commented once Kurt had explained his offer to Blaine to give him references.

"You really don't see the point here, do you?" Kurt asked as they waited for the show to start.

"Of course I do. You're giving yourself an excuse to stare at him," Rachel accused, and Kurt just smiled as the lights went down.

By the time the show was over, Kurt was completely enamored, not only with Blaine, but with his _voice_. He was incredible, and charismatic, and the fact that he kept getting dead-end callbacks only emphasized how inbred the system had become. He could do an amazing job in any Broadway play he chose, but he didn't know the right people. Well, now he did. He knew Kurt.

"Are we stage-dooring?" Rachel asked, "I really don't want to get hounded by paparazzi." Since when?

"Oh come on, spoil sport," Kurt said, dragging her out of her seat as fast as it was possible in the crowds of people trying to leave the theatre. By the time they got to the stage door, half of the actors were gone, and Kurt didn't see Blaine anywhere.

"You did tell him you were coming tonight, right?" Rachel asked, looking around like Kurt was.

"I wanted to surprise him," Kurt said in way of answering, and Rachel rolled her eyes.

"He's the Patti LuPone of Off-Broadway," Rachel said, pulling Kurt away from the door. "He's always in a hurry, and if you didn't tell him you were going to be here, he's not here."

"Drat," Kurt muttered as he and Rachel left the theatre, headed for Kurt's apartment for their usual after-show nightcap.

* * *

"Your house is always madness at Christmas," Quinn commented as she sat at Kurt's kitchen table, sipping her coffee and watching with entertainment as he tried to take down all of his extensive Christmas decorations.

"I love Christmas. Sue me," Kurt replied as he wrestled with the evergreen bough on top of his cabinets, not even bothering to worry about how rickety the chair he was standing on was. "Decorating is half the holiday."

"Maybe for you, but some of us enjoy it for it's more spiritual roots," Quinn said, continuing to watch and not offering any help.

"Yes, yes, I know you and Dr. Christian spend all of your Christmases at mass, and I applaud your devotion to a useless task," Kurt said sassily as he managed to get the bough down.

"Very funny. And his name's not Christian," Quinn said, but Kurt ignored her.

"I put an angel on the top of my tree, and that's about as religious as Christmas in this apartment is going to get," Kurt said firmly, deciding his tree would be his next task as he did. He pulled the empty ornament boxes out from under the cabinet and began filling them with all the ornaments he had accumulated, half of which were probably ones Finn had given Rachel. He had always tended to forget that she's Jewish.

"The party was fun though, even if I have a little bit of an eggnog-headache." The reason Quinn was gracing his kitchen table with her beauty was the amount she had drank at the Christmas party Kurt held that year, and her subsequent lack of ability to get home due to the fact her future husband was two hundred miles away at their home in Providence.

"No one forced it down your throat, Q," Kurt commented, and she smiled at that.

"Sadly, alcohol has always been one of my weaknesses," she reminisced, fingers dancing around the rim of her cup. "Thank you for letting me stay here."

"My door is always open," Kurt offered, because as much as he teased her, he really did love Quinn. '_I feel it in my fingers, I feel it in my toes; love is all around me, and so the feeling grows_,' Quinn's phone rang out before she picked it up.

"Hi, sweetie." Kurt was there immediately, pressing his ear to the back of her phone. Despite how much Quinn raved about this man she loved, they had never seen much of him, and the fact that Dr. Mystery had difficult cases around Christmas (because people were bolder when there was a potential of a Christmas miracle) prevented him from coming to Kurt's annual Christmas party every year.

"_Lucy, how are you_?" Kurt gaped at Quinn, who waved her hand at him frantically, pushing him out of their conversation.

"I'm fine. Unfortunately a little hungover, but our lovely host allowed me to stay the night." Kurt couldn't hear what he said next, but Quinn laughed and answered, "No, he's gay," standing up to take the call in private. Spoil sport.

Speaking of calls, Kurt had some to make, starting with Blaine. Before Kurt got the chance, his phone started singing out the lyrics to _Leave Me Alone_, which meant Finn was calling.

"_Hey bro, did Quinn get home okay? I'm at her apartment and she's not answering_." Kurt rolled his eyes at his step-brother.

"She's here at mine, on the phone with her beloved Doctor Tye M. Lockwood. Please tell me you're not endeavoring to go down that road again, with an engaged woman no less." Finn just laughed, he was so accustomed to Kurt's ribbing for his attitude towards women in high school.

"_No, Mercedes just called me asking if I had heard from her, and I volunteered to drive over here because out of all of us, I think I'm the least hungover._" Finn, luckily, had not followed in his mentor Mr. Schuester's habits, and avoided drinking like the plague.

"Well, she's healthy and located, so don't you worry too much."

"Awesome," Finn said, still his favorite word, 'cool' being a close second. "So, there's this chick..."

* * *

"Absolute madness," Kurt announced as he collapsed on the couch with Rachel, and he could tell by the bags underneath her eyes that she agreed.

"I know. It's January, why is it suddenly an appealing month for auditions and changes? It's cold, it's one of the less busy months on Broadway, there's no reason my life should be stressful right now," Rachel complained, and Kurt knew it was his job to point out the holes in her argument.

"Yes, but when Broadway's not busy, that's the perfect time to try out new things on stage and for directors to change from the single-minded focus necessary for producing a show to a multi-tasking frame of mind to prepare for the next," Kurt pointed out, and Rachel stuck her tongue out at him. "I, however, am truly mysteriously swamped. It's not a change in season, there's no big deals going on right now at Vogue, and it's not a big sales month, yet suddenly Isabelle's turning up the heat on the employees. Not me, specifically, but I'm too nice, and I've ended up helping out everyone else with the work they can't manage because of the new rules. It's ridiculous. The only place she hasn't turned up the heat is in the actual office, it's freezing in there."

"You should stop being so nice," Rachel pointed out, "and maybe the reason Isabelle's putting pressure on her employees is she's getting pressure from upstairs for the exact reason that it's _not _a big sales month. Maybe they're trying to increase their quarter one income."

"Sometimes I hate you so much," Kurt replied. He couldn't believe it was only mid-January.

"Did you hear that Blaine got cast in _Avenue Q_ for next season?" Rachel queried as they relaxed on the couch, both freezing, stressed, and sore. "It's still Off-Broadway, but it might be a swing season." Kurt would never admit to it later, but he definitely said a bad word and got off the couch faster than he ever had before during one of his and Rachel's relaxation and bitching sessions. "What?" Rachel asked, obviously mystified, but too tired to care.

"I forgot to call in old favors for Blaine," Kurt replied, and Rachel groaned.

"I thought you did that a billion years ago!" she said with her usual drama, but he ignored her.

"The last time I thought about it was after the Christmas party, but I got so distracted by Quinn and then Dr. Lockwood called and then Finn called, looking for Quinn and wanting lady advice, and it completely slipped my mind." Kurt dug through his bag in search of his iPhone. "Shoot, where is it?"

"It's out here on the table, sweetie," Rachel answered his rhetorical question, and Kurt groaned as he realized exactly how absentminded he had become of late. What else had he forgotten about? "Who's Dr. Lockwood? Is there something you need to tell me?" Rachel asked, bits of concern seeping through her fatigue.

"Doctor Tye M. Lockwood is Quinn's fiance, or should I call her Lucy, as he does," Kurt said, answering Rachel's question and revealing the little tidbit about their relationship that was really the only thing he knew. Quinn liked her privacy, and in Providence, she got it.

"Really?" Rachel asked, and when he made some noise that she took as a yes, she said, "Good. I'm glad she's getting over the trauma of her childhood and starting to accept that she's Lucy Quinn Fabray, she's been through a lot in her life, but she's come out stronger for it."

"Rachel, stop talking. You get philosophical when you're tired. Take a nap, I need to make these phone calls," Kurt ordered as he dug around his bookshelf for the address book he had used when he was on Broadway. He had deleted all the numbers from his phone as soon as his final show closed, and he had been hoping he would never need them again.

"Top shelf, between Harry Potter five and six," Rachel muttered helpfully after yawning, settling in to nap on his couch.

"You can nap in your own home, you know," Kurt offered, but Rachel was already asleep by the time he did. "Why do I love her?" he asked himself as he dialed one of the directors he had really gotten to know, the one who considered Kurt his pupil. Let the games begin.

* * *

Rachel was the one who reminded him about the _RENT_ playbill, only a week later. He still had his, not being that disorganized, but he hadn't thought to look Blaine up in it either. He flipped through until he found **Who's Who in the Cast** and began to read about his mystery ski shop helper.

**Blaine Anderson** (_Roger_) Off-Broadway: _Much Ado About Nothing_ (Benedick), _The Last Five Years_ (James), _Small Engine Repair_ (Frank), _A Family for All Occasions _(Henry). Blaine attended New York University, writes songs, and would like to thank his brother Cooper.

Not as much as Kurt had hoped for, but surprising nonetheless. A fairly impressive resume, and no mention of his parents, which was a minority as far as the bios seemed to go. Everyone dedicated their performances to their parents, either by name or generically, except for Blaine. Kurt wondered, but decided to let it go. He hardly knew the man, he couldn't go delving into his secrets, as much as he wanted to.

However, he _could_ find out a little bit more about Blaine by investigating his co-workers. Despite her lack of major parts on Broadway (she had been completely overshadowed in _the Addams Family_, and Rachel Potter made a much better Wednesday), Krysta Rodriguez had been in the business for years, and they had inevitably crossed paths.

He did not feel creepy for doing this, he reminded himself firmly as he dialed Krysta's number, he was just doing as Mercedes had told him to. He was chasing. Not stalking. Chasing. "_Hello_? Krysta's familiar, perfectly unaccented voice broke him out of his musings.

"Krysta! Hey, it's Kurt. I'm... talent-scouting," he lied, "and I was wondering about someone you're currently in _RENT_ with. Someone by the name of Blaine Anderson."

Krysta's first response was to laugh. "_Talent-scouting, huh? What, those that can't do, teach? Subtle, Hummel, but it would be subtler if he hadn't been bragging about the connections you were going to get him around Christmas. You want the full story on Blaine?_"

"Yes, please," Kurt admitted, fully aware that his covert plan had backfired on him.

"_He's a great guy. Charismatic, friendly, talented, smart, witty, one of the few people on this earth who truly enjoy mornings,_" Krysta ranted. "_If you're interested, you're barking up the right tree, Kurt, he's much better than that Adam asshole._"

"I'm pretty sure anyone's better than Adam," Kurt admitted, and Krysta actually clapped for him on speaker phone when Kurt told her they had broken up a while back.

"_Good, finally someone nailed some sense into you,_" Krysta said. "_I hope I'm not being unintentionally literal._"

"Krysta!" Kurt protested, but they were both laughing.

"_You're welcome for the low-down, be-atch, come visit soon, I miss you,_" Krysta said, making childish kissing noises into the phone as she said goodbye.

"Later, Rodriguez."

* * *

**A/N: So, how'd you guys like the first chapter? All this stuff about the process of Broadway that I mentioned isn't really real (swing seasons or whatever), I made them up for the purpose of the story. This is un-beat'd, so any spelling/grammar errors are on me, and, even though I've read this a hundred thousand times looking for errors, I was typing rather frantically when I first wrote it, and I'm sure said errors exist. Oh, and I made up a name for the boyfriend from _A Family for All Occasions_ since the character's name had not been released at the time I Googled it.**

**Songs used/mentioned:**_  
_'_Love is All Around_' by Wet Wet Wet  
'_Leave Me Alone_' by Michael Jackson

**Reviews are Love.**


	2. Spring 2017

******Spring 2017**

The spring season was the biggest for sales in fashion. Not only was it a change to bright colors from the drabness which tended to characterize winter, but most people included cleaning out their closets in their routines for spring cleaning, and everyone needed new clothes. So, naturally, Isabella and all the people Kurt knew were putting pressure on her (but he would never tell Rachel about them. He knew what happened when she found out she was right) were happy, and it made life easier for him. After the favors he had called in, _Avenue Q_ had gotten its swing season, and now Blaine made a proud Nicky in front of a Broadway audience eight shows a week. At some point in his less hectic life, Kurt promised himself as he headed for his favorite coffee shop, he would get to that show, and make sure Blaine knew he was coming this time.

"Grande non-fat mocha, please," Kurt said automatically, a creature of habit.

"On me," a voice announced behind him, making Kurt jump and whirl to see a familiar smiling face.

"Blaine!" he exclaimed, trying not to sound too excited. "How are you?" He didn't even bother to object to Blaine paying for his coffee. He had a feeling that wouldn't go over well.

"Excellent, and I have a feeling some of my current happiness is due to a very famous Broadway director, who happens to be a countertenor and friends with some old Broadway stars, taking a sudden interest in me and my fellow cast mates," Blaine said, grinning as the smiling barista handed him Kurt's coffee. "For you, good sir." Kurt giggled and followed Blaine to his table, which was covered in staff paper.

"Writing?" Kurt asked as he tried to pick up a page only for it to be snatched away from him.

"Yeah," Blaine admitted, smiling a little. "I write a little, but nothing I've ever written has turned out very well." Blaine was stuffing his papers into a messenger bag before Kurt got a chance to look at it.

"I'm not allowed to be the authority on that?" Kurt asked as he sat down.

"Not a chance," Blaine replied, attempting to run his hand through his hair as he sat down and ending up displacing his colorful toque. "Sorry, I'm not exactly fit for company at the moment." Blaine gestured to his stubble and to the hat that was covering messy, curly hair.

"You look cute," Kurt admitted, making Blaine smile, "even if you are a little bit last season."

"It's still cold enough for me to pull this off," Blaine argued. "I'm happy to see you again."

"Me too. I came to _RENT_... God, it must be last year at this point," Kurt realized, making Blaine chuckle, "but you pulled a LuPone on me and were out of the theatre before I reached the stage door."

"I would have stayed if I had known you were coming," Blaine flirted, but he was only reinforcing the bane of Kurt's existence.

"And now I have another thing I can never, _ever_ admit to Rachel," Kurt said with a sigh, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Rachel..." Blaine trailed off, clearly asking.

"My ex-teammate, ex-roommate, and current best friend, the lovely and talented Miss Rachel Berry," Kurt said, smiling and rolling his eyes.

"Rachel Berry, why does that name ring a bell?" Blaine asked, taking a sip of his own coffee.

"She did mention that she had worked with you before," Kurt said, and he could practically see the light bulb go off in Blaine's head.

"I remember that! She's crazy, but crazy talented," Blaine hedged, obviously trying to spare Kurt's offenses, but he laughed anyway. It was the most accurate description of Rachel he had ever heard.

"Exactly how I would describe her," Kurt assured him once he had caught his breath. "She does have good taste though." Kurt smiled a little coyly at his companion.

"Meaning?"

"Meaning she thought you were cute," Kurt said, making Blaine chuckle and blush a little.

"Well, tell her I said thank you." Blaine was obviously very chivalrous, Kurt decided, and every little thing he learned about Blaine, he liked.

"I wish I could stay and chat, but work calls, and my boss gets testy when I'm late. She would probably excuse me if she knew I was flirting with a hot guy, but still," Kurt said, a little bit bolder than he would be normally. Blaine just smiled.

"Probably getting to work on time would be a good idea," he admitted. "How about we get lunch sometime? My rehearsals usually start around one, so we might end up eating a little early..." Blaine offered, and Kurt hated to say no, but...

"I usually work though lunch," Kurt admitted. "I'm kind of a workaholic, but I love what I do, and if we were to have lunch on a weekday I would be distracted by my ever-ringing phone and perpetually-buzzing iPad. How about a weekend?"

"I have double shows on Saturdays and Sundays," Blaine said with a sigh. "We would end up doing something more like brunch, and closer to breakfast, but even then that would be tight. I require lots of sleep." Kurt chuckled.

"Mondays are good for me, I'm usually off or working from home, considering I usually end up working Saturdays due to Sunday deadlines," Kurt offered, but Blaine shook his head.

"Mondays are black, so not only are they the only day I have to relax, but I also end up running errands, having appointments, planning meetings, writing, and often rehearsing something we screwed up during the show week," which Kurt knew well ran from Tuesday through Sunday without stopping to catch its breath, "so it's always pretty hectic for me. I'm sorry," Blaine said, and Kurt knew his disappointment must be showing on his face.

"It's fine. We'll hopefully keep in touch better this time, and we'll try to find some free time for each other." Kurt tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach and the logical part of his brain that was pointing out how little time he had for anything besides work, never mind a new relationship.

"Sounds like a plan," Blaine said with a smile, picking up his bag. "Get to work, I'll hopefully see you soon."

"Bye, Blaine," Kurt said, and he was hugging Blaine before he had thought it through. Blaine didn't seem to mind at all, clutching to his back like he just wanted him to stay there for hours.

"Bye, Kurt," Blaine replied, finally releasing him.

Kurt ended up being in a considerable rush to get to work, not being able to find a cab, and being almost forty-five minutes late, but, as he had suspected, all was forgiven once he told Isabella about Blaine.

* * *

He didn't think he was floating on air as he walked in the door humming, but as soon as he closed the door behind him, the step-brother on the couch who had clearly been intending to ambush him scared the crap out of him asking, "Who's the guy?"

"What guy?" Kurt asked in lieu of an answer after he had jumped, shrieked, whirled, and caught his breath. "And don't _do_ that to me! I gave you a key to my place in case of emergencies, not so you can watch The Big Bang Theory on my couch while I'm working," Kurt chastised as he placed his bag down and pulled seltzer water out of the fridge.

"The guy that's making you hum _Have You Ever Been in Love?_ after what was probably a pretty stressful day at work," Finn clarified, and they had obviously spent way too much time living together.

"If you can recognize brief snatches of Celine songs being hummed, I think you've spent way too much time with me," Kurt replied, still not answering, as he shot-gunned his water. "And for your information, Blaine's just a friend, if even that. I don't see him enough for him to be anything more." Not that he didn't want him to be more, but he was pretty sure Finn knew him well enough to hear the implied part of his sentence in his voice.

"Oh, dude, LD? Seriously? That's worse than cradle-robbing!" Kurt rolled his eyes.

"No, not long distance, he lives here in New York. We just... keep meeting each other, but I don't really know him, and he knows even less about me." Kurt sighed. "He is pretty sweet though."

"Why not just ask him out?" Kurt shook his head.

"Do you remember when I was on Broadway?" Finn shrugged in reply. "I was a maniac, constantly performing and rehearsing and only having a moment to myself on black days. That's the spot Blaine's in right now, especially since he's debuting, and he has no time for me. And I'm busy, always, even now, so I have no time for him."

"Make time," was Finn's suggestion, but Kurt rolled his eyes and ignored it.

"I appreciate the encouragement and maturity, Finn, but this isn't going to work out. At least, not right now." Kurt reached into the fridge for another water.

"What, is that like your alcohol or something?" Finn asked, gesturing to the sparkling water, but Kurt just ignored him. He was remarkably good at it.

* * *

Kurt settled into his seat, trying to ignore the looks he was getting for having a dressed-up Rachel on his arm, which were mostly incredulous and disbelieving. He didn't blame them, and he didn't care.

"Did you tell him we're here this time?" Rachel asked, looking ridiculous considering she was at a performance of _Avenue Q_, but she had spent the earlier portion of her evening at a Broadway charity benefit and hadn't had any time to change.

"I'm about to. This way, it'll be a nice surprise, but we'll still see him," Kurt said, firing off a text and preparing to laugh his butt off for the rest of the night. He was dressed more casually than Rachel, in tight jeans, and an _Avenue Q_ t-shirt of old he had edited slightly to make more of a fashion statement.

"Clever," Rachel said, trying to figure out how to sit down comfortable in her skirts.

Nicky was a small part, but the hardest Kurt laughed all night was during _If You Were Gay_. Watching Blaine deny his sexuality was way too entertaining, and Rachel was rolling her eyes at him. It was well worth the poor performance by the show's Rod. Besides Blaine, there was no way anyone in the cast should be on Broadway.

"So, I'm guessing we're stage-dooring?" Rachel asked, sounding rather bored. Kurt had been able to tell she wouldn't be able to enjoy the show because of the poor acting by the first scene.

"Very funny," Kurt said, as he dragged her out of their aisle seats, headed for the close door. He had booked tickets according to how fast they could get out of the theatre.

"You are absolutely ridiculous about this guy," Rachel commented as Kurt nearly pulled her arm out of its socket, but she sounded happy about his happiness.

"Shut up," Kurt said as he pulled her around the side of the theatre, more holding her hand than dragging her at this point. The stage door was already open, and the people that had gotten out of the theatre before them (black magic, he swore, was the only thing that prevented them from being the first at the door). Blaine wasn't out there yet, but the girl who had played Kate was posing for pictures, and Rachel bee-lined for her to offer the pointers Kurt was sure she had been thinking over throughout the entire show. Rachel was nothing if not predictable.

Blaine was the next one out, and he grinned when he saw Rachel, giving the ridiculously-dressed soprano a kiss on the cheek and taking a picture with her for an ecstatic fan before he turned to look for Kurt, who was hanging out on the edge of the small pool of light around the door. Blaine smiled brightly and headed for him, but he never got the chance.

"Kurt Hummel!" Jason Moore said as soon as he could see Kurt. "As I live and breathe, if it isn't my former superstar." Kurt knew Jason had been directing the show, and he respected the man immensely, but at this point he would honestly kill the talented director in order to talk to Blaine.

"If it isn't my favorite Les Mis director," Kurt lied. Not even close. "I'd love to stay and chat, but if you wouldn't mind..." Kurt tried to rebuff him pleasantly, but the man latched onto his arm, and when he threw Blaine a look, the actor just shrugged, smiled at Kurt, and turned back to his enthused fans, who clearly recognized talent when they saw it.

"I knew you would come to check out my experiment eventually," Jason continued, keeping a firm hold on Kurt's arm and leading him back into the theatre. "Your boy is quite talented. Where did you scout him? I'm looking for more talent like that. If you have any more recommendations, be sure to tell me, I'm pretty sure he's the only thing holding this show together. The cast and crew love him. How are you? What are you working on right now? I haven't seen you in Playbill news lately..."

The man continued to talk his ear off for two hours, offering Kurt scotch (which he thought tasted like rubbing alcohol) in his office and not giving Kurt a chance to get a word in edgewise, not even to answer the man's rambling, non-rhetorical questions. He had only come to the show to see Blaine, and he didn't see him for more than two minutes. Rachel ended up spending the night at the stage door with him, and going out for an after-show dinner and pointers. Needless to say, Kurt gave her the cold shoulder for two days after throwing several heavy objects at her when she walked into his apartment the next morning.

* * *

"It's nice when everything works out," Rachel said, unable to stop smiling as Kurt helped her pack up her apartment. Since she had broken up with Finn, he was the one she called when she needed someone to lift heavy things for her, and he did _not_ appreciate it.

"I can't believe you're moving in with him," Kurt said, attempting to sit on an overly-full box and duct-tape it shut at the same time. He was going to get taped to a box at some point, he knew it.

"Kurt, we've been together for five months," Rachel argued. "Just because you wait three years before moving in with someone, doesn't mean we all do. I learned my lesson with Finn. I move in with a guy as soon as possible so I know that our schedules and routines are compatible. If they're not, and they insist on using _my_ bathroom, I move on."

"I sincerely hope, for Paul's sake, and my back's, that Paul has two bathrooms," Kurt grumbled as he managed to close the box and was faced with the worse task of lifting it.

"Paul's apartment is gorgeous, spacious, closer to the Theatre District, and has a better view than mine," Rachel continued, completely ignoring his comments. "It's expensive, but it will be much more manageable with us splitting the cost."

"What is it exactly that he does again?" Kurt asked.

"He's an Executive Strategy Coordinator at a division of General Electric," Rachel replied sassily.

"What does that mean?" Kurt had managed to life up the box but was in serious danger of tipping over whilst trying to carry it. Rachel just shrugged.

"He makes a lot of money and his hours aren't too brutal. That's all I care about," Rachel replied, and to anyone else that would make her sound like a gold digger, but Kurt knew her better.

"I'm glad you're happy Rachel, but perhaps a little less talking and a little more packing?" They had packed and placed six boxes by the door so far, and he had packed all of them. His back attested to the fact he had moved all of them as well.

"So, how are things with you and Blaine?" Kurt glared at her for her question, just for the sake of principle. Last time he had seen Blaine, he had literally done nothing besides _see_ him, and Rachel had gone out on almost a date with him. He had to discourage this kind of behavior in the future.

"There isn't anything in existence that remotely resembles me and Blaine," Kurt replied, rather testily. "We promised at the end of the last time we spoke that we would find time for each other, but we haven't thus far." Rachel dropped the first thing she had attempted to pack and, following the loud crashing sound, knocked one of her other dishes out of Kurt's hands.

"Call him!" she demanded, abandoning packing all together. "Call him _right now_, Kurt Elizabeth Hummel! If you don't, I will, and you know how good my impression of you is!"

"Caller ID would thwart you, Rachel," Kurt argued, keeping his hand over his phone in his pocket.

"This isn't important," Rachel said, tossing away a box. "Call him or I will take you to the carpet!"

"You still don't know what that means, do you?" Kurt asked, remembering when she had asked Mercedes after graduation. Mercedes had just laughed and told her never to take anyone to the carpet, she was too white.

"Doesn't matter. Call him. _Now_." Kurt sighed, knowing arguing was useless at this point, and also kind of excited to talk to Blaine for the first time in a month.

Kurt dialed Blaine's number as Rachel breathed down his neck, and as soon as he pressed the phone to his ear, Rachel's ear was pressed to the other side of the phone. "_Hey there!_" Blaine greeted after two rings, and Kurt couldn't help but smile.

"So you finally put me in your phone?" Kurt asked, and Blaine laughed.

"_If I hadn't, I wouldn't have stayed after at _Avenue Q._ I'm sorry about that, by the way, Moore can get pretty intense_, _but he's a great director_." Even annoyed, Blaine sounded sunny and optimistic. Gaga, Kurt missed him.

"It wasn't your fault, and I know," Kurt said, rolling his eyes at his ex-director's occasionally crazy stunts, "but he's so happy with you that he wants me to part-time talent scout."

"_I can't tell if you sound happy about that or not_," Blaine admitted, and Rachel 'aww'ed quietly. Kurt pushed her away.

"It's pretty time consuming, I don't know what he means by this 'part time' nonsense, but it's almost... charity, making sure great singers and actors like you aren't overlooked because of the system." Rachel was back to her position of eavesdropping within seconds. Actresses, Kurt thought, rolling his eyes.

"_I noticed you didn't mention anything about dancing_," Blaine said with a chuckle. "_Something you want to tell me, or did Rachel already pretty much cover it?_"

"I haven't talked to her about it, but I'm sure she thought of everything I did and more. I didn't have many criticisms about you, and they're only things a trained professional would notice, something Rachel never takes into accounts. Your cast mates, however..."

"_Hey, hey, hey, be nice_," Blaine objected immediately, and Kurt just wanted to hug him again. "_No one expected this to be a swing season, and it is admirable that they were even up for the challenge. Besides, we're all still improving_."

"Maybe I'll come see the show again, and compare," Kurt flirted, making Rachel roll her eyes.

"_I'd like that_," Blaine retaliated, his voice deepening a little and making Kurt shiver despite his best intentions. He knew Rachel would tease him about that later. "_Maybe you should give me some advanced warning this time, and I'll poison Moore's food_." Kurt outright laughed at that one, the tense (in a good way) atmosphere gone.

"Maybe something less drastic?" Kurt suggested, making Blaine chuckle.

"_I'd love to stay and chat, trust me, I really would, but it's a Monday, in case you forgot, and I have places to go and things to do. We'll talk more soon?_" Blaine sounded so earnest, Kurt only possible answer was yes.

"Absolutely, as long as it's not people to do," Kurt said before he had thought about it, and Rachel died laughing at the mortification on his face, loud enough for Blaine to hear her.

"_Oh, hi, Rachel,_" Blaine said, sounding a little surly for the first time since Kurt had met him. "_And I can definitely promise you that,_" Blaine replied to Kurt, who smiled a bit in spite of himself. They were both faithful to the other, even though they weren't actually dating.

"Then we'll definitely stay in touch."

"_Bye, Kurt._" Blaine's tone dimmed as he added, "_Bye, Rachel._"

"Bye, Blaine," the once twin dynamos said at the same time, Kurt's goodbye considerably flirtier than Rachel's.

"_Aw,_" Rachel said as soon as Kurt had hung up. "You're so crazy about him."

"You make it so difficult for things to be romantic," Kurt retorted, but he couldn't be upset with his crazy, demanding, pushy best friend. She only wanted the best for him... he assumed.

"Well, I couldn't figure out what the problem is!" Rachel announced. "You've known him for almost as long as I've known Paul, and _we're_ moving in together while _you guys_ are barely even _friends_. And I _still_ don't see the problem!"

"We never see each other, we're both busy, we're both too focused on our careers and self-improvement to worry about romance," at least that was his excuse, "so, no, we're not anything more than friends. Someday, I'm sure we will be," Kurt said, and Rachel just sighed.

"Sometimes you are _so_ frustrating," Rachel said dramatically. "Make time!"

"Now you sound like Finn," Kurt pointed out, irritating her further.

"You do realize one of your points is completely invalid, right?" Rachel said, having figured out over three years ago that switching to logic occasionally helped her argument. Not that she didn't deliver it dramatically, but it at least made sense.

"Oh really?" Kurt asked, curious about what she had come up with.

"Do you remember what I was like before I started dating Finn?" Rachel asked him, and Kurt had a feeling he was in for a long lecture. "I couldn't dress myself in the morning, I couldn't relate to anyone, I couldn't find a hairstyle that worked for me," Kurt was trying his best not to laugh at Rachel's serious speech, but couldn't help chuckling at that one, "and by the time I had broken up with Finn, I was a completely new person. You had given me a makeover, I had bangs and _friends_. Finn was a major part in the changes I made while I was part of the New Directions. Relationships can be fodder for self-improvement, especially romantic ones, and you shouldn't discount them in your big, dramatic, meticulous life plan. Someone like Blaine would change you for the better."

"Are you done?" Kurt asked, after some fake-yawning and waking up.

"Very funny, Kurt."

"Thank you for the very parental speech, Rachel, but I am twenty-four, almost twenty-five, and perfectly capable of taking care of myself." Rachel sighed. "However, I will think about what you said and try to... cultivate my relationship with Blaine more. Keep in touch more." Rachel gave him a million-watt smile, the kind she always gave paparazzi when she was in a good mood.

"Come here, my crazy best gay," Rachel said. "I'm going to hug you now." Kurt laughed, so many memories flooding back, and hugged Rachel in return.

"You're so insane," he muttered, but Rachel ignored it.

* * *

Isabella had been his slave driver for the entirety of that morning, and by the time Kurt had helped her plan out her negotiations with her board of bosses, he was ready to go home, and the day was only half over. The spread he had photographed a few days ago, which would include the cover page, was almost guaranteed to show up in his inbox at any moment, and Isabella had been bothering him for the last five days to be a part of a photo shoot, as an actual _model_. She was still trying to convince him, despite his objections that he wasn't exactly a model. She had taken advantage of the web site he had created to get hired the first time, edited and added to it (stealing pictures from _Rolling Stone_ articles from when he was a Broadway star was just low), and apparently the people running Marc Jacobs' distribution were interested in borrowing him for an afternoon, so he could look pale and scrawny, yet normal, in comparison to Marc by Marc Jacobs' usual type of models. Plus, he would have to deal with their stuck-up attitudes and over-the-top demands, and even though he would be on level with them, they would still treat him like producing dirt. Yes, he was thrilled by the offer, but under no circumstances was he going to accept it.

So, when Kurt's phone rang, he took the opportunity to avoid the work on his way and Isabella, and answered it.

* * *

"Do you really think I want to spend a portion of my summer on the beach with you ogling me?" he asked Santana on the phone as she tried to invite him to Puck's beginning of summer beach bash, walking into his apartment after having argued with her on the phone for over an hour.

"_Oh, please, Hummel, I'm _married."

"Britt told me you still have threesomes," Kurt argued, making a face and being glad Santana couldn't see him to make fun of him.

Santana sighed. "_Of course she did. Look, Hummel, if I promise that Britt and I won't make comments about you, or Rachel, will you _please _consider coming to Puck's? It'll be fun, especially considering how rainy it is in Chicago right now._" Now Santana was making a face. He just knew it.

"Fine, but I'll have you now that Los Angeles sun and this albino, Ohio-raised skin is not a good combination," he said, getting the final word in their argument before hanging up on her. Rachel would be here any minute, and Kurt had to make a good argument to her as to why they should take a vacation and travel to Los Angeles.

His phone buzzed as he went to get a drink for him and Rachel. For as anti-alcohol as she had been while she was underage, she was more than happy to have a drink after a busy day now. Assuming it to be Rachel, about as punctual as she is sane, Kurt ignored it. He said a bad word when the phone read: Missed Call _Blaine Anderson_. "Shoot," he corrected himself, picking up the phone and dialing his friend back. Five rings and it went to voicemail.

"Hey, sorry," Kurt began after the beep, "I missed your call because I assumed it was my crazy best friend. Um, I'm calling you back, but you're obviously busy, so I'll call you again... later, I guess. Bye, Blaine." Could he have sounded any more stupid, he wondered once he hung up the phone.

"Hell...," Rachel paused, "o. Why do you seem upset?"

"What?" Kurt asked absentmindedly, his disappointment clearly showing on his face. "Oh, I'm fine. I'm just still awkward over the phone," he said with a laugh. "So, Santana called me earlier to proposition me," he began, sliding Rachel her drink, "about us going to Los Angeles for a bit during June. She promised it wouldn't be too hot, but you know how many doors tanning opens for you." Rachel had tanned religiously for several weeks last summer in order to play the role of Maria in a revival.

"You seriously think the tanning opportunities was a better route to go then getting to see all of our friends?" Rachel asked, obviously realizing what Kurt was trying to do as she took a sip of her drink. Kurt shrugged. "Taking a vacation is difficult for me, but I think I can manage. You know I like to take a month's break for my voice during the summer. Let's make it June."

"Cheers," Kurt agreed, clinking their glasses.

"Now, have you seen Blaine's reviews?" Rachel asked, and they spent the next hour drinking and Googling Blaine. It was way too much fun.

**A/N: So I have decided that Fridays and Tuesdays will be update days for this fic (mostly because I'm very likely to forget on Mondays). I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and be prepared for shenanigans from the entirety of the New Directions next chapter.**

**Songs used/mentioned:  
**'_Have You Ever Been in Love?_' by Celine Dion (mentioned)  
'_If You Were Gay_' from _Avenue Q_ (mentioned)

**Reviews are Love.**


	3. Summer 2017

**Summer 2017**

"Welcome to LA!" Puck announced loudly as he handed them all piña coladas. "Always sunny, always fine."

"So, is this actually your house this time?" Tina asked, well aware of the incident he'd had with his half-brother during high school.

"Ha ha," Puck said sarcastically. "Yes, this is my house! Screen-writing is definitely better at raking in the dough than cleaning pools."

"There are condoms in the dining room," Santana announced, holding up the box. "This is definitely his house." Everyone died laughing at that one.

"Glad we did this?" Kurt asked Rachel, who was overdressed for Los Angeles weather and definitely regretting it judging by the sweat pouring from her forehead.

"Definitely," she said with a grin, jumping in the pool in all her clothes. She had really loosened up. At least, she would be loose until she remembered she was wearing a white t-shirt.

"Classy, Berry," Santana commented before doing the exact same thing. Of course, Santana didn't care and Rachel did, but that was beside the point.

"I definitely missed you guys," Mercedes said, sipping her piña colada and looking like she belonged in one of Puck's lawn chairs. How much time had they been spending together lately? "Everyone here is too big for their britches. And they use words like 'britches.'" Mercedes rolled her eyes. "Nice to have some people here ready to cut loose."

"Nice to get the damn New Yahk people out here too," Mike said in a terrible accent. "They're too cooped up in that city of theirs."

"Because your smoggy one is so much better," Rachel retaliated, hoping out of the pool to reveal that she was wearing a swimsuit under her clothes. That made more sense. The New York versus Los Angeles, which city was better? argument had been going on for years and would probably never end. "Noah, where's the karaoke machine."

Everyone groaned before Puck admitted, "Don't have one," and Rachel proceeded to fake faint on the ground. "Much better," Puck said, looking down at Rachel's prone form.

"How can you live," Rachel began, getting up and earning an even bigger chorus of groans, "in one of the most beautiful, if modest, houses I've ever seen, and not own a _karaoke machine_?"

"Rachel, calm down," Kurt said, used to controlling her. "This is mostly a vacation for your voice, remember?" he used her previous words against her. "So stop screeching, and don't even think about singing." Rachel sighed, but submitted.

"Fine," she said shortly, taking off her shirt and pants and getting back in the pool in proper attire.

"You're no fun, Berry," Santana said, and she was just wearing a bra under her white t-shirt. Kurt rolled his eyes. Classy as usual.

"A Girl Scout is always prepared."

"You were never a Girl Scout."

"Stop the violence!" Brittany said, and Santana immediately stopped, earning herself several whip sounds from his oh-so-mature friends. After Kurt had contributed, he picked up his buzzing phone.

"_Hey_!" came a cheerful voice. "_I hope you're not busy_."

"Well, actually," Kurt said, walking into Puck's house and noticing that there were condoms in the kitchen too, "I'm in Los Angeles with some friends, on vacation." Did Puck have condoms in every room? Knowing him, probably.

"_Oh_." Blaine sounded disappointed. "_That's a shame, I was hoping we could spend some time together_." Of course this would happen to him. Of course.

"Don't you have a show in a bit?" Kurt asked, looking at the clock. "Or right now." It was 3:29 on a Saturday. Why wasn't Blaine mid-_Avenue Q_?

"_My show swung back down, so they gave us a week to get re-adjusted,_" Blaine said, and now he sounded downright miserable. "_I had rehearsal this morning, but I don't have a show until next Tuesday._"

"That's when I come home," Kurt said, tempted to swear.

"_I guess this just isn't meant to work out, is it?_" Blaine asked, and now he sounded like Rachel.

"Don't say that. You're just in a bad place," Kurt argued, sitting down at Puck's kitchen table and absentmindedly playing with the box of condoms he had found.

"_I know. I guess you and Rachel were more than accurate in your criticisms of my cast mates. We're still not really Broadway worthy_." Blaine sighed. "_We'll work at it. Maybe we'll swing back up_."

"You do realize now that you've debuted, you could probably find Broadway parts with no problem. You got good reviews," Kurt said, then swore when he realized what he had revealed.

"_Been checking up on me?_" Blaine asked, and Kurt blushed pink.

"Maybe," Kurt admitted, and Blaine chuckled. "Maybe I was just checking up on my investment. If all the critics had hated you, I would have lost major credit for having recommended you." It was weak, and he knew it.

"_Right,_" Blaine said, obviously not believing him. "_Don't worry about it, I think I spent more time than is healthy thinking about all I found while I was reading my own reviews._"

"Yeah, reading your own reviews is never a good idea," Kurt said sympathetically. "There's always going to be someone that hates you for no good reason, don't dwell on it."

"_Thank you for the wise, sage advice, oh Broadway alum,_" Blaine replied, making Kurt giggle. "_I'm trying not to think about her._"

"Her? Really?" Kurt asked.

"_Why is that a surprise?_"

"'Cause in Broadway chat rooms women end up talking more about how hot an actor is than how well they did. I kind of automatically assumed that all women who had seen you were completely enamored."

"_Is that a hint, Mr. Hummel?_" Blaine asked flirtily.

"Maybe," Kurt replied coyly.

"Hey, Hummel!" Puck yelled, followed by a few whip sounds. "Stop flirting with your man and come talk to the rest of us. This is supposed to be a vacation, that includes from dick."

"Puck!" Kurt shrieked, but Blaine was dying laughing.

"_Dear God, are all your friends as crazy as Rachel?_" Blaine asked, still laughing.

"I'm so sorry, I didn't think they would bother me. I should go though, before they say something truly traumatizing and you never want to speak to me again."

"_That could never happen,_" Blaine promised, flirting again, "_trust me, if people judged others on their friends, I would be shit out of luck, excuse my language. But you probably should go. We'll talk again soon?_"

"Definitely. Bye Blaine," Kurt said, a goodbye that was almost entirely routine at this point.

_"Bye, Kurt,_" Blaine replied. "_And tell your friends I definitely wouldn't mind being your man._" Blaine hung up before Kurt could say anything else, which was probably good. He would have made a complete fool out of himself; he had nothing to say to that.

"Puckerman!" he yelled, storming out of Puck's house and tossing the box of condoms he had found at him. "I cannot believe you said that!"

* * *

"All right, Hummel, I'm sorry I freaked out your boy toy," Puck finally gave as good an apology as Kurt was ever going to get, and the countertenor gave up. "Now, stop being a secluded stick ass and get in the pool. We're playing chicken."

"Not only is that game completely childish, but I'm still not sure I want to be associated with you."

"Bawk, bawk, bawk," Puck mocked, clucking like an idiot (he didn't make a very good chicken) and trying and failing to strut around the pool deck. "_Chicken_," he added, as if his attempts weren't obvious enough.

"Isn't the idea of chicken not to be playing with the chicken?" Kurt argued, and Puck was stumped, momentarily.

"Hummel, why must you suck _so bad_?" Santana asked from the pool, still just wearing her underwear and not caring that it was sopping. "Seriously, you came out here to have _fun_, so get the stick out of your ass and get in the pool."

Brittany leaned over to whisper something to Santana which made her laugh, and while Kurt hadn't heard enough of it to comment, he was pretty sure the words 'Blaine's dick' had been in there somewhere. Kurt huffed.

"Why must you idiots pick on me constantly?" Kurt asked as Santana almost drowned she was laughing so hard.

"Because you fall for the dumbest guys and will chase them to the ends of the earth," Puck answered, "like Finno over here."

"Noah," Kurt said, purposefully trying to annoy the former jock, "that was a _long_ time ago, and I think we've all changed a little bit since high school. At least, I have." Kurt sniffed mockingly in Puck's direction, a skill he had picked up from watching Rachel do a background part in a revival of _My Fair Lady_ a few years ago.

"Kurty," Brittany complained, having matured and wised up a little since high school (but not by much. Poor girl had always been in her own little world), "why won't you come in the water and play with me?" Mature as always, the other guys wolf-whistled at that.

"Hey, assholes! She's my wife!" Santana snapped, cowering the wolf-whistlers. "Come on, Hummel, just get your tight ass in the water."

"What happened to no comments?" Kurt asked, placing his hands on his hips and refusing to give in to Santana's demands.

"You started pissing me off," Santana practically _growled_.

"Stop the violence!" Kurt was pretty sure Brittany knew at this point that she could manipulate anyone into behaving with these simple words. They had never failed to work on any of them.

"And I have matured, Hummel. I'm a screenwriter, and I own a badass house. Unlike you New York people and your _apartments_." Kurt rolled his eyes. That was an argument Puck was never going to win.

"Do you seriously think mocking my chosen lifestyle is going to help convince me to play chicken?" Kurt realized too late the number of 'lifestyle' jokes he had opened himself up to, but luckily no one took the bait.

It was at this point Puck bodily picked him up, despite his wriggling, kicking, and _shrieked_ protests (Kurt would admit they were shrieks. He did know the power of his voice, and he knew how to use it. He refused to accept, however, that he shrieked when he didn't intend to) and tossed him in the pool, rendering all argument completely moot.

* * *

"I hate you," Kurt announced to Mercedes as she rubbed his back with aloe. "I hate you so much."

"Bo, in no way was this my fault. You're the one who was tempted into a game of chicken by Puck, Santana, and Brittany. You tempted the sun, and this is your punishment."

"I was wearing sunscreen! And they didn't _tempt_ me into it!" Kurt complained, aware he was being as dramatic as Rachel but not caring. "_Strong_ sunscreen."

"Kurt, I've seen both of your parents, and I have no idea how you ended up with this skin, but no matter what you do you will end up looking like a lobster in Los Angeles sun." Mercedes sounded amused, but sympathetic.

"This is exactly why I didn't want to come here," Kurt moaned, his back aching and itchy.

"And you're already peeling. This is gonna be _nasty_," Mercedes said with a laugh. "Relax, white boy, it's mostly your back and arms. Unless you're shacking up with ski shop guy already, they won't be too noticeable."

"Mercedes! You're as bad as Puck!" Mercedes cracked up.

"I can't believe you hit him with a box of condoms. Where did you even find those?"

"His kitchen," Kurt answered, still lying down even though Mercedes had finished with the aloe. "Speaking of Puck, condoms, and things he might be up to requiring them in his kitchen..." Kurt began, giving her a look.

"Oh no, white boy, don't even go there. There's _nothing_ going to with me and Puck. Went down that road once, never again," Mercedes swore, but Kurt didn't believe her for a minute.

"Mercy, come on. Don't think I haven't noticed how much Puck has changed recently. And you looked awfully at home in that lounge of his. How many times have you been over here lately?" Kurt asked.

"As many times as you have, white boy," Mercedes answered, but she didn't sound very convincing at all. "Look, I haven't let anything happen between me and Puck."

"Why?" Kurt asked, and Mercedes gave him the most incredulous look.

"I'm sorry, I could have sworn I didn't just get testimony in Puck's favor from someone he used to throw in _dumpsters_." Kurt rolled his eyes, and so did she.

"You didn't. And that was a long time ago. All I asked you was a simple question."

"Because it's _Puck_. He calls his dick _Puckzilla_. _Still_." Kurt tried not to laugh at that one, but couldn't succeed. "He's matured a little, but he has way more to do before he can get all up on this." Mercedes gestured to herself dramatically.

"Have you at least given him a chance?" Kurt asked, and Mercedes rolled her eyes again.

"Jeez, white boy, I never thought I'd hear you campaigning for Puck, especially when it comes to women."

"Despite the sheer number of condom boxes in Puck's house," Kurt said with a grin, making Mercedes laugh, "I think he really has changed, and I think you should give him a chance."

"Did he put you up to this or something?" Mercedes asked, and Kurt shook his head. He hadn't had any private conversations with Puck since he had gotten here... or ever, really. "Damn. All right, Puck's got _one chance_. And if he messes it up, I'll eliminate his favorite appendage, _Puckzilla_." They both looked at each other and died laughing.

* * *

"Fancy running into you here," a voice said behind him at the hot dog stand, and Kurt whirled again.

"You've got to stop sneaking up on me," he said to a grinning Blaine.

"You've got to be more observant. What are you up to today?" he asked before Kurt had a chance to retort.

"Nothing terribly much. I have some work stuff to catch up on that's been hanging over my head since March, but other than that I'm free." For the first time, Kurt took in Blaine's appearance. He was wearing swim shorts and a t-shirt, with a backpack slung over his shoulder. "Blaine, it's not _that_ warm today."

"Very funny," Blaine said with a grin. "I'm dressed like this for the same reason I asked you if you have plans. Me and a few friends are headed down to the Jersey Shore today, and I was wondering if you wanted to come along. We'll be hanging out and possibly cruising around on my boat if we can find a place to dock it. My friends aren't quite as insane as yours, but I think they'll do." Kurt groaned. He didn't even want to think about beaches. "What?" Blaine asked, brow creasing adorably.

"Don't do that, you'll get wrinkles," Kurt said, reaching up to smooth his brow out and then remembering the concept of personal space. "Um, sorry."

"No problem," Blaine said, smiling a little.

"And the reason I groaned is because of my crazy friends, as a matter of fact. You remember I was in Los Angeles?" Blaine nodded. "I'm kind of pale, in case you haven't noticed, and I got some wicked bad sunburn."

"How bad?" Blaine asked, and when Kurt pulled up his sleeve to show Blaine his burnt forearm, the actor literally winced. "Ouch."

"Yes, so not only is the idea of a beach repulsive to me right now, but I don't want to augment my burns, and I don't think beach-going is very fun fully clothed." Blaine raised an eyebrow and Kurt blushed. "I mean I-"

"I know what you meant," Blaine teased with a grin. "Just wanted to make you blush. I wish I could stay here with you, considering this is the first time I've ever known you not to be busy, but I can't even imagine the horrible revenge my friends might come up with if I was to abandon them for a guy, no matter how cute." Kurt blushed deeper, cursing his pale skin for so many reasons. Blaine smiled and pressed a hand to his warm cheek, before remembering personal space himself. "I'm-"

"Don't worry about it," Kurt said, feeling breathless. "You should go, I wouldn't want any of your insane friends' revenge to affect me."

"No, you really wouldn't," Blaine said, sliding his hands into his pockets and looking as awkward as Kurt felt. "So, bye, I guess."

"Bye," Kurt said, wishing he didn't have to say it. He jumped a little when Blaine leaned forward to press a kiss to Kurt's cheek, but didn't mind at all. "I'll see you again soon, I hope?"

"Absolutely," Blaine said with a smile, headed off towards a group of boys who had been pointing at them during their entire conversation. It made sense that those were his friends.

As soon as Kurt got home, he dialed Mercedes. "I really hate you."

* * *

"This is getting ridiculous!" Rachel announced as soon as Kurt had told her about the failed beaching adventure. "Do I need to lock you two in a room to make you find time for each other? I don't think I'm above it at this point!"

"Rachel, calm down. Maybe this is the universe saying 'yes, he's cute, and gay, and single, and interested, but no, you can't have him'."

"Why must the universe constantly kick you in the nuts?" Rachel asked dramatically, flopping down on a chair in his kitchen.

"Why are you here so much?" Kurt asked, realizing Rachel had probably spent more time at his house recently than at hers. "You might as well live here for all the time you're spending with Paul." Rachel looked down at her hands uncomfortably. Kurt knew that look. "What's going on with you and Paul?"

"Nothing, we're just having some living-together-related issues," Rachel admitted.

"And you haven't dumped him yet?" Kurt asked, surprised only because he knew his best friend. "Usually that's the number one reason you send a guy out the door. You're welcome to move in here, if having nowhere to go is the problem." Rachel's lease had been up when she moved out.

"No, no, it's fine. We're making it work, and I want to make it work. I really like him. I love him, maybe even more than I loved Finn. And it's nothing _major_, he's just... he got a promotion," she finally spit it out with a sigh.

"And?" Kurt asked.

"He's never home now!" Rachel announced. "And it's awful, being alone in his big house, no matter how wonderful the acoustics are. And his new title makes even less sense!"

"I don't even want to know," Kurt said, trying to make Rachel laugh, but failing for the first time in their friendship. "Rachel, talk to him. If he really cares about you, he'll make time."

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to be telling you?" Rachel asked, and dammit, she had a point.

"That's different, Rachel. Blaine doesn't owe me anything. Paul made a commitment to you when he asked you to move in, and he needs to stick to it, no ifs ands or buts."

"You're committed to Blaine, whether you like it or not," Rachel pointed out, and Kurt sighed.

"Rachel, that's not what we're talking about here. We're talking about you and Paul. Blaine and I are entirely different, and also not as important. I can't say I'm in love with him, I barely know him! And you... you can see yourself having a future with Paul, can't you? At this point, I'm not even sure Blaine and I have a _present_!"

"Don't give up on him, Kurt. Blaine is a wonderful man. If you don't give up on him, I won't give up on Paul."

"Deal," Kurt said firmly, and they shook on it.

* * *

"Look who it is," Rachel muttered as she and Kurt walked out of Sardi's. Blaine was standing on the sidewalk on the phone, looking stressed and talking low. "Go talk to him, see what's up." Rachel pushed him away before Kurt got the chance to say anything.

"Blaine," Kurt said as soon as he had hung up the phone.

"Kurt, hi," Blaine replied, looking totally thrown.

"What's wrong?" Kurt asked, placing a hand on his arm gently.

"Nothing, I... that was my brother, and he was in a car accident, but he's fine. They just needed my permission to run some tests on him, so I gave some sort of power to his girlfriend so she could sign for me. I don't really..." Blaine sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Sorry, it's been a weird day."

"Blaine, what's taking you so long?" a voice asked not-so-gently. A man was standing in the doorway to Sardi's staring Blaine down. "Is your brother okay?"

"He's fine," Blaine called back, pulling his arm out of Kurt's grasp.

"Who's this?" the man asked, approaching Kurt.

"I..."

"He's just a friend," Blaine said, and he looked guilty as all hell.

"Blaine, what's going on?" Kurt asked, looking between the two.

"We're on a date," the man said confused, and Kurt heard Rachel gasp behind them.

"Oh!" Kurt said, faking cheer much better than he ever had on stage. "Well, I'm sorry I interrupted, I don't mean to interfere, I just saw Blaine looking upset and wondered what was going on with him. Right, _buddy_?" Kurt tried not to growl, punching Blaine perhaps a bit harder than was necessary in the arm.

"Right. I'll be right in, Max." The man accepted that and headed back for Sardi's taking a wide path around a steamed Rachel. "Kurt, I can ex-"

"Don't," Kurt said, switching off the cheer like it was a light switch. "I understand. I've made myself unavailable to you and you don't owe me anything. It's fine. Rachel," he called out, "let's go home."

"Kurt," Blaine called after him, but Kurt ignored him.

"What the hell was that?" Rachel whispered as they left, but Kurt ignored her too.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Rachel said later that night as they were curled up watching _The Notebook_. "We were all encouraging you to go after Blaine, we never realized he was such an _asshole_."

"Rachel, I meant what I said outside the restaurant," Kurt said, thoroughly cried out, head resting in Rachel's lap. "Blaine doesn't owe me anything, and we're not exclusive. He clearly gave up on chasing me, and I don't blame him. Why would he chase after me if he has someone attractive and clearly more available on hand?"

"Because you're worth it," Rachel said, brushing his hair back. "Even if he doesn't know that, you _are_ worth it."

"Thanks, Rach," he said with a sigh.

"How many times is he going to call?" Rachel asked dramatically as his phone began to buzz again. "Don't you dare pick that up, Kurt."

"Rachel, stop it," he said, waving her off and picking up his phone. "Hello," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound too scratchy.

"_Give me two minutes, and I'll explain everything,_" Blaine said, his voice fast and nervous.

"Go," Kurt said with a sigh, preparing himself for poor excuses.

"_I decided to take your advice and audition on Broadway. The musical _Once _won eight Tony awards in its opening year, including Best Musical and Best Director. I got in touch with said director, John Tiffany, who is still involved with the project. He gave me a role on the condition that I would go on one date with his son, _Max _Tiffany. That's all that was, Kurt, business, and dirty business at that._"

"Are you done?"

"_Yes._"

"Blaine, I'm not angry with you, or upset. I was both of those things, but I'm not anymore. You have the right to date whomever you please. Date every guy in the city, if you want to. I have no claim over you, and you have no claim over me. So I have no right to be upset with you, and you have no need to explain yourself to me." Blaine sighed; a rush of static assaulted Kurt's ear.

"_The idea of you on a date with another man drives me crazy," _Blaine began_, "and for weeks, I've imagined the idea of you giving up on me, and... I can't stand it, Kurt. I just can't. I'm... completely crazy about you, even if you're right, even if we're not actually something yet, even though I know next to nothing about you. I know this is hard, and I know you have every right to give up on me, but I'm _never _going to give up on you. I would never want to date anyone else, not before I got a chance with you. And... this, this isn't easy, Kurt. For either of us, but I _want _this. More than anything. If you don't, I understand, but I'm not giving up on you until you say you've given up on me. Maybe not even then. And I am _so _sorry that you caught me in that position with Max, who was deplorable, and had no sense of humor, and tried to feel me up under the table and... and... and didn't laugh at my jokes, or blush when I complimented him, or have third-degree sunburns when I wanted to go to the beach with him, wasn't completely clueless about ski equipment, didn't want to look at my songs even though they probably suck, didn't me a spot on Broadway. He wasn't_ you._ Even if I wanted to date around, everyone I met, I would always be comparing them to you... and they would never measure up._" There was silence for a few seconds after Blaine had finished, and then...

"Do you give impassioned speeches a lot?" Kurt asked, making Blaine laugh nervously.

"_Not unless I _really _like someone,_" Blaine said, and he definitely wasn't teasing.

"I told you, I'm not angry with you, and I care about you too, Blaine. Even if I have absolutely no reason to. For all I know, you're a serial killer with tons of dead male prostitutes in your body-glitter-covered basement." They both cracked up at that.

"_I don't even have a basement,_" Blaine said, and Kurt could tell he was smiling. "_So, I'm guessing this is some sort of step? We're... exclusive?_"

"I'd like that. Maybe we can actually be _dating _to go along with that someday," Kurt said, and Blaine laughed.

"_That would be... amazing. I should go, I have to go over to Tiffany's, _John's_, not Max's, and wring a contract out of him. I... I miss you._" Blaine sounded so honest, Kurt just wanted to kiss him.

"I miss you too. Bye, Blaine."

"_Bye, Kurt._"

"He better have a damn good explanation for that," Rachel said, still rubbing his back, and Kurt sighed, ready to tell the story all over again.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, but there has to be a _little_ bit of angst in a fic. It can't be all sunshine and rainbows and near-misses. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! :) I'm actually on time with my update for once.**

**Songs used/mentioned: None! What is _this?_**

**Review are Love.**


	4. Autumn 2017

**Autumn 2017**

"It's freezing outside, and there are college kids everywhere!" Rachel announced, walking into Kurt's apartment and taking off her scarf.

"Yes, Rachel, it's called _September_," Kurt said, reading Vogue on his couch and sipping his coffee, glad he didn't have to go outside and deal with the mess of confused, matriculated morons. They were worse than tourists, had no sense of direction, and didn't know what a block was when he was giving them instructions.

"Why do you read that magazine?" Rachel asked, plugging in the Keurig to make some coffee for herself. "You work for it, you already know what's going to be in it."

"Why are you never at your place?" Kurt retaliated, and Rachel let it go.

"Things between Paul and I are fine!" Rachel announced.

"Right," Kurt said, resigned to talk with Rachel about this another time. "So, is there a reason you barged into my apartment?"

"I ran into Finn on the subway this morning." Kurt rolled his eyes. Oh Rachel.

"This is a big city, Rach, but it's still a small world," Kurt said, parroting back to her the words she had said when he had run into Sebastian. He had been on a date with Adam and they had run into Sebastian and a boyfriend. Even in New York, Kurt couldn't avoid the people he didn't want to see, up to and including the one who tried to blind him with rock salt senior year.

"I knew it was bound to happen eventually," Rachel said, being selectively deaf as usual. "I knew Finn and I would cross paths, living in this big city with only a small amount of distance between us, and I knew it would be horribly awkward. I know our relationship was the defining point in both of our lives, and that we will never forget each other. But why did it have to be today? The one day Paul decided to walk me to work, the only day he has ever had time. Did I tell you?"

"Tell me what?" Kurt asked, not bothering to address the bulk of Rachel's speech. He wasn't entirely sure if she was just coming up with an excuse to be in his apartment, or she was just being a drama queen, but either way it wasn't particularly important.

"Paul got another promotion, but he has more fluid hours, and he can do a lot of his work from home! We finally have time to spend together, his title makes sense, and it's _wonderful_." Rachel was practically walking on air around his apartment.

"Which once again begs the question of why you're here," Kurt said, making Rachel roll her eyes.

"Are you expecting someone? 'Cause it seems like you want me out of here," Rachel said, huffing indignantly. "And to address your concern, Paul is actually at work right now, but he'll be home for dinner. We're having _dinner_!"

"At this point in your relationship, that should not be a defining moment," Kurt commented, but Rachel ignored it. "And to address your query, I am expecting someone."

"Is it Blaine?" Rachel asked, pouncing on his couch. "Are you two finally getting some time together?"

"Rachel, it's four o'clock, he's at rehearsal. He's _always_ at rehearsal," Kurt said with a sigh. "Just like we were, and you somehow now avoid being. And you're going to be much less excited to see the person I _am_ expecting."

"Now you're making me..." Rachel began, but Kurt had focused on the click of the lock. Rachel had thought seeing him on the subway was going to be bad.

"Hey, du-" Finn froze. "Rachel, hi."

"Finn," she said softly. "You're here."

"Finn," Kurt said, speaking at a normal volume but feeling awkwardly loud in the atmosphere, "is moving in with me. We thought we would do some cost saving, I'm single, I like his girlfriend enough to buy earplugs, and I do have two bedrooms."

"Oh," Rachel said softly. "Wow. That's... nice. I'm glad you two will get to see each other more. I... I should, um, go, because P-Paul's waiting for me at home." Kurt rolled his eyes, but let her leave.

"Dude!" Finn objected as soon as he was sure Rachel couldn't hear him. "What the hell! Warn me next time!"

"Finn, relax. I didn't know she was coming, and even if I had I wouldn't have warned you. You two are both twenty-five and are the most immature pair of idiotic exes I have ever seen. Stop skating around each other, accept that you've both moved on, and be _friends_ again! I don't care if it kills you at this point." Kurt relaxed and pulled his Vogue back out, unable to remember when he had put it down.

"Are we really that bad?" Finn asked quietly, thoroughly subdued, and Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Yes. You really are that bad. She came in here to vent about seeing you on the subway this morning."

"Yeah, she was with some guy. Was that Paul?" Finn asked, helping himself to a beer without waiting for permission. Kurt nodded. "He seems pretty cool."

"You talked to him?" Kurt asked, surprised by his brother's maturity.

"No, it's not like we were on the same train. We just saw each other across platforms. I was headed uptown, she was headed downtown, and I didn't actually see him get on a train. But he seemed to be treating her nice. He was holding her hand, and she was laughing..." Finn's voice was getting more and more depressed.

"Finn, are you not over Rachel?" Kurt asked, knowing the answer but needed to hear it.

"No, of course I'm over her!" Finn objected immediately, satisfying Kurt's worry. "I mean, yeah, I miss her and all, but it's not... y'know, like that. Anymore."

"I think that wins for most articulate answer I've ever heard," Kurt said dryly.

"You don't get to lecture me," Finn argued, "you're single."

"And happily so," Kurt pointed out.

"Did that Blaine guy not work out or something?" Finn asked, and Kurt sighed. Why did everyone want to talk to him about Blaine?

"I'm impressed that you remembered his name, but nothing has happened between me and Blaine. Ew, that rhymes," Kurt said, wrinkling his nose and making his childish step-brother laugh. "We're still... involved, I guess, but we haven't had an actual date."

"That blows," was all Finn said in response, and sometimes it was nice to be around his brother. He could relax with Finn, who knew exactly how far to push and what was too far, and he could eat ice cream and watch crappy TV and not be judged. In a weird way, that's what he wanted to find with a guy too, but he had long since given up on Finn ever being that guy. He wasn't _pathetic_.

* * *

"_Traffic jams stink_," was the first thing Blaine said to him when he called him a few weeks later, Finn staring at him across the table until he agreed to. Living with Finn wasn't horrible, but it wasn't as easy as it had been when they were in high school either. Schedules were starting to cause major conflict.

"Where are you?" Kurt asked, trying to ignore Finn's gaze. Why wasn't he going away?

"_Washington D.C. Don't ask_."

"Wasn't going to," Kurt assured him, "and the traffic is always awful in Washington. Every time I go to visit my dad, I get stuck in traffic for hours. It almost doubles the trip."

"_Thanks for the optimism_," Blaine said dryly. "_So, in case my location and first words weren't a sufficient answer, no, I am not available to spend time with the world's most amazing almost-boyfriend at this point in time_."

"'Almost-boyfriend?'" Kurt repeated, ignoring the way Finn's eyebrow raised. He refused to annotate his conversation to his step-brother, as annoying as the former jock was.

"_I figure it's bound to happen eventually, right?"_ Blaine asked, sounding optimistic as always.

"You're definitely the more optimistic of the two of us," Kurt said, making Blaine chuckle.

"_I had already realized that_," Blaine replied. "_So, do you need to go, or?"_

"Eager to get rid of me?" Kurt asked teasingly.

"_No! Of course not! I was just..._" Kurt heard a distinctive crunch sound. "_And that's what you get for road rage, sir. And no, before you ask, that was not my car. It was next to my car_."

"I was thinking," Kurt said, realizing he was about to sound ridiculous but not caring, "that, if there's no chance of you going anywhere anytime soon-"

"_Not a chance in the world_," Blaine added, making Kurt smile, even though it probably wasn't _meant_ to be sweet.

"-we could get to know each other a little better. I hardly know you, and you know even less about me." Kurt waited for a moment for Blaine's answer, realizing he was holding his breath and feeling like a teenager again. Why did Blaine always make him feel like that?

"_Sounds great to me, and since you've spend four hours in traffic before I'm not terribly worried about the jam suddenly ending. At the risk of sounding cliche, tell me about yourself_."

"At the risk of sounding petulant, what do you want to know?"

"_Where are you from_?"

"Lima, Ohio, the bane of my existence. You?"

"_That's funny,_" Blaine said, hopefully answering Kurt's question. "_I almost lived in Westerville when I was a teenager, but I decided to live with my brother instead, in LA_."

"What brought you to New York then?"

"_Probably the same thing that brought you: opportunities galore. Despite my brother's firm insistences that Broadway is dead, I decided my talents would be better used in New York, and so I decided to come to school here. I, unlike my talented phone partner, couldn't get into NYADA though."_

"You auditioned for NYADA?" Kurt asked, not entirely surprised to hear it.

"_Yeah, but I didn't make it, so I ended up at-"_

"NYU, I know," Kurt filled in, grinning at the empty air and making Finn roll his eyes at him. Kurt turned and mouthed some rude words at him as Blaine replied.

"_Of course you do. Could you be any creepier?_" Blaine asked, but he didn't sound like he meant it.

"Yes," Kurt deadpanned, making Blaine laugh. "Though I promise I found that one in your Who's Who."

"_How have I never thought to research you like that_?" Blaine asked, and Kurt shrugged even though Blaine couldn't see him. "_Very clever_."

"Thank you. Speaking of your Who's Who, can I ask you something kind of personal?"

"_At the risk of sounding petulant, isn't everything about getting to know each other personal_?" Blaine asked, and Kurt huffed, making the tenor laugh. "_All right, all right. Yes, you may._"

"You thanked your brother in your Who's Who, and you just said you lived with your brother. What about your parents?" There was silence on the other line for a moment, and Kurt panicked. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked, it's obviously something you don't want to talk about and way too personal for-"

"_Kurt_," Blaine interrupted him finally. "_It's fine. To answer your question: Until I was about five, my parents and brother lived in Ohio. When my parents divorced over which of them could accept me, I moved to New York City with my mother, the accepting one. You might know her, she owns the Majestic Theatre. My parents technically had joint custody, so I was going to be send back to Ohio right before I started high school, only then Cooper, my brother, offered to let me live with him, and that was a much better alternative than living with my father and new step-mother, whom I had never even met, and were unhappily married anyway. My father actually spent most of his time in Chicago doing business and cheating on my step-mom, and my step-mom openly lived apart from him, in Los Angeles, not that far from me and Coop, doing interior design work for rich people. Sorry, now I'm just rambling, but in a roundabout way, I _am_ answering your question. I didn't thank my parents because they never really did anything to help me. Even when I was living with my mom, she was always distracted and I rarely saw her. She loves me, but I never spent time with her. I was estranged from my father the moment I came out of the closet, and to this day I have never met my step-mother. So, I don't really owe my parents a thank you, I don't think_."

"Wow..." Kurt said, trying to wrap his head around everything he had just learned about Blaine. "I'm... so sorry."

"_Not your fault_." Blaine diffused the tension with a laugh. "_Besides, I'm not bitter. Even before I came out, my family didn't really get along_. _What's your family like_?"

"My father is an Ohio Congressman, my step-mother is a nurse, and my step-brother is working as a mechanic. My father has always been supportive of me, my step-mother loves everyone unconditionally, and despite troubles early in our relationship, before we were brothers, my step-brother and I are close enough to be roommates and not kill each other. He's actually staring at me from across my kitchen table right now, and refusing to go away no matter how much I wave him off." Finn made a very mature face at him, and Kurt returned it.

"_I get this odd feeling asking about your mother is a big no-no, but I've never really had any instinct for self preservation, so..._" Kurt sighed.

"My mother died when I was six, of pancreatic cancer." Finn's eyes widened, obviously surprised Kurt trusted Blaine enough at this point to tell him that, and he stood up, gesturing and heading for his room.

"_Kurt, I am _so_ sorry, I shouldn't have asked._" Kurt shrugged again, clearly not having grasped the concept that Blaine couldn't see him.

"It was almost twenty years ago, Blaine. I'm okay."

"_Okay_," Blaine replied, sounding a bit disbelieving. "_How about a lighter topic then? Past boyfriends_?"

"You answer first," Kurt said, not wanting to think about Adam at that moment, and Blaine chuckled.

"_All right then. Three serious, long-term relationships. I dated a guy named Marcus for two and a half years during high school. I seriously dated two guys in college, Daniel and Henry, and I was with both of them for about a year. Besides that, a bunch of a few weeks long flings, but no one-night stands._" Kurt made a noise of... it wasn't shock, but at least surprise. "_What? Don't believe me?_"

"No, I do. I guess I just... I don't know why that surprises me, honestly," Kurt said, hoping Blaine wouldn't be offended, but Blaine was chuckling. "Um... one, serious, extremely-long-term, asshole ex-boyfriend, Adam, whom I dated for five years, in college and beyond." There was silence on the other end of the line. "Blaine?"

"_That's it_?" Blaine asked, and Kurt blushed, glad this time that the tenor couldn't see him. "_I'm sorry if that sounds judgmental,_" Blaine said immediately once Kurt didn't answer, "_but really, only one boyfriend? No little flings or high school sweethearts_?

"I'm not really a fling person," Kurt replied. "It... takes a while for me to trust someone. Well, usually," he amended, thinking of the way he had immediately taken to Blaine. "You seem to be the exception."

"_I'm glad_."

"And as for high school sweethearts, I went to high school in rural, knuckle-dragger-dominated, Hickville, Ohio. The fact that I _survived_ is a miracle in and of itself. Having a boyfriend was just unrealistic."

"_I guess that makes sense_," Blaine said after a few seconds. "_I had never really thought of that, having gone to school in the second most liberal area, San Francisco wins by a landslide, of mostly accepting California, which only had that whole Prop 8 issue because of the Mormons._"

"It's fine. High school is everyone's personal version of hell, mine was just more... literal." Kurt sighed. His high school years had been survivable at best.

"_What was it like_?" Blaine asked, then immediately second-guessed himself. "_I'm sorry, I'm probably pushing this too far, I just_..."

"No, no, it's fine," Kurt said. "It was... hell, honestly. Everyday I heard a rude word or comment, or got slammed into a locker, or hit or tripped or... worse. I don't really..."

"_It's fine_," Blaine said, and Kurt wished he could see the tenor's face. He sounded completely horrified. "_I'm sure it's not something you want to be thinking about_."

"Not particularly," Kurt admitted. "The important part is that I survived, despite an arsenal of bizarre incidents and multiple death threats."

"_Wow. I feel so ignorant right now. I mean, I hear all these stories, incidents that started things like the Trevor Project, but it's hard to really think through bashing until... sorry, I'm philosophically musing. Autumn, you know?_" Kurt laughed.

"It's more spring for me, but we all have our philosophical season," Kurt replied, playing along.

"So, want to tell me more about these crazy friends of yours?" Kurt proceeded to tell Blaine every incident he could think of that had happened in his three years as part of the New Directions that was guaranteed to make the tenor laugh, and Blaine did the same thing with his friends, who were bizarre in their own ways. Kurt had made plenty of jokes about Blaine attending an all-boys school in California (which apparently he had), and had been floored once he realized Blaine attended one of the high-achieving prep schools where getting into less than five Ivy Leagues is disgraceful. Nevertheless, Blaine's stories about all his genius, gay guy friends from California (some of which, including Charlie, were his friends in new York) were hilarious, and they talked for almost three hours, much to Finn's displeasure (he was hungry. As always). By the time Blaine had to hang up because the traffic was finally moving more than five feet a minute, Kurt was absolutely convinced that Blaine wasn't a serial killer with tons of dead male prostitutes in his body-glitter-covered basement.

* * *

"Thanks for letting me crash at your place," Sam said as he put down his bags. "I love Chicago, but I have a feeling Santana and Brittany need more alone time then they're getting with me living with them."

"Like you would mind hearing it," Kurt replied, but he was only teasing and Sam knew it.

"I can't believe you and Finn haven't killed each other yet," Sam said, ignoring Kurt's comment and looking around Finn and Kurt's immaculate apartment. "This does _not_ look like dudes live here."

"I'll let that one slide because you dated my girl," Kurt said, tossing Sam's bags towards the area they tended to call the living room.

"Many years ago," Sam said with a laugh, "and now she's with Puck."

"So I've heard. So I encouraged, as a matter of fact," Kurt admitted. "Beer?"

"Thanks," Sam said, taking the beer from his hand. "And me too, actually. Puck's actually a pretty cool guy once you get past the exterior and several layers of interior." Kurt laughed at that.

"I can't believe you're moving to New York," Kurt admitted, and Sam shrugged.

"I'm still young, aren't I? I can still move around. And besides, I can teach anywhere, especially the kids that I teach, and _especially_ in big cities. Maybe this isn't the best time to move, but I have some savings, and I'll manage." Sam popped open the beer and probably drank half of it in one gulp. "Nothing to stay in Chicago for."

"Fair enough," Kurt said, calorie splurging and making himself a mimosa.

"So, just you and Finn around here?" Sam asked, gesturing to the apartment, but Kurt knew what he was really asking.

"Finn's girlfriend Angela is over often enough," Kurt replied, "so you might want to invest in noise-canceling headphones." Sam chuckled.

"What about you?" he asked, drinking the other half of his beer with ease.

"Mostly single, and very happy."

"'Mostly single?'" Sam repeated, and Kurt sighed.

"It's a long story, and you've got a lot of catching up to do if you expect to keep up with us New Yorkers. It's fast-paced around here," Kurt said, trying to change the subject subtly and failing by the look on Sam's face. "Have you started job-hunting yet?"

"Eager to have me off your couch already?" Sam asked, but Kurt ignored it. "No, I haven't, but I'll start tomorrow, don't worry."

"I'm not worried, Sam, you're welcome for as long as you want. Just beware you're going to see a lot of Rachel."

"My favorite!" Sam exclaimed sarcastically as Kurt got up to get another mimosa, making both of them laugh.

* * *

Kurt stretched out on his couch, glad that Finn had decided to kidnap Sam and bar hop in full costume, and Rachel was at a big, important party in a couple's costume with Paul and looking radiant in the Facebook pictures. She really had grown up. Now, Kurt was all by himself, and perfectly content to spend Halloween by himself on his couch, despite the perfect costume he had sitting in his closet.

_'The phone rings_' Mark announced on the _RENT_ soundtrack he had playing just as it did. Kurt had known it was going to happen someday. "Hello?" Kurt asked his phone, the only nuisance he had neglected to turn off during his night for himself.

"_Hey_!" came the only voice he wanted to hear across the line. "_I'm going to a big Halloween party my friends are throwing, and they invited you because apparently they got tired of interrogating me about you all the time and want to finally meet you. Are you busy_?"

"I'll be right there," Kurt answered, more than happy to spend time with Blaine and secretly happy that he got to wear his costume.

"_Great!_" Blaine said. "_I'm a little ways away, because I had to visit an old friend in New Haven, CT, but I'm at a gas station twenty minutes out of the city. So, meet me at 160 Riverside Drive in about forty minutes_?"

"Sounds good," Kurt said, planning to be there early to scope out the friends that Blaine so frequently called crazy, and using the other time to get into his... completely appropriately tight costume. At least, that's what everyone but Finn thought.

Kurt had to get on the subway to get to Riverside Drive, and was appalled by the sheer number of leers he got. Maybe Finn had a point, but he would never admit that to his step-brother.

"You must be Blaine's hottie," was the reception he got by the guy standing at the door, who was pink-haired and kind of cute and introduced himself as Charlie. "Nice costume, come inside." Security clearly wasn't their number one issue, Kurt decided, but was delighted to find that the party on the fourth floor was small and contained, if loud and pretty drunken. The party had obviously started without Blaine. "Blaine's not here yet," Charlie announced from behind him. "So be prepared to face the drunken carousel yourself."

"Thanks," Kurt said dryly.

"I haven't gotten your name," Charlie said, almost yelling over the obnoxiously loud music, leading Kurt to a couch and shoving a Red Solo cup into his hand.

"Kurt," he introduced himself, and Charlie offered his unoccupied hand to shake.

"I can't believe Blaine sent you to the wolves unprotected," Charlie said, gesturing around. "Is it just me, or is he late?"

"It's just you," Kurt replied, making his new friend chuckle. "I'm not expecting him for another ten minutes."

"Came to scope the place out so you could get to know everyone before Blaine showed up and made everything awkward? Smart. I must admit, you're not Blaine's usual kind of guy, but I like you," Charlie said, sitting down next to him and beginning to point people out, introducing them.

"What's Blaine 'usual kind of guy'?" Kurt asked, curious in spite of his good sense and not really caring to remember every single one of Blaine's friends' names.

"Well, stupid for one," Charlie said with a laugh. "I didn't mean it like anything, Blaine just usually doesn't have very good taste."

"Funny, that's not how he made it sound," Kurt muttered as quietly as possible to still be heard, thinking over the short conversation they had had about previous boyfriends, which had admittedly made Kurt irrationally jealous.

"Yeah, that doesn't surprise me," Charlie said. "Blaine falls hard and fast, and no matter how God-awful a guy is in looks or personality, or both, once Blaine's hooked, he'll follow him anywhere, and even after the guy dumps him, Blaine will go to his grave swearing he was a nice guy. Blaine's a sweetie, but he's too easy to take advantage of. Don't you do that, or I'll kick your ass. You have enough brain cells for me to threaten."

"You seem like you really care about him," Kurt replied, noting the almost brotherly protectiveness in Charlie's voice.

"Yeah, well, I've known him for a long time, and I've seen too many guys fuck him over and go to be able to resist scoping you out. Sorry," Charlie said with a shrug, not seeming particularly repentant. "Besides, you're all I've heard about for the past eleven months. It's getting kind of annoying."

"Sorry," Kurt said for the sake of saying it, not feeling particularly repentant either. "For the record, that's not quite how Blaine made it sound." That seemed to be a theme.

"What? Is Blaine denying that he likes you?" Charlie asked, sounding outraged. "I'll kick his ass."

"No, he just said you guys had been interrogating him," Kurt said, and Charlie laughed.

"No, that's not me, but there are definitely a few guys here interested in meeting you. _Especially_ since you showed up in a costume like that. Aye dios mio, you're way too hot to be hanging out with us."

"Um, thanks, I guess," Kurt said, making Charlie chuckle.

"Don't act like such a wallflower, I've been around for enough of your phone conversations with Blaine to know that you have some personality." Kurt chuckled at that. "And it's particularly annoying that you're here and he's not, considering you two are _exclusive_." Charlie rolled his eyes. "Exclusive but not dating, you have to be the strangest couple I've ever met."

"We're not a couple," Kurt argued, just to annoy Charlie, who punched him in the arm.

"You deserved that," Charlie said in reply to Kurt's noise of pain. Charlie had really punched him!

Charlie and Kurt talked, mostly Charlie telling embarrassing stories about Blaine's childhood and adolescence and making Kurt die laughing (apparently, Blaine had serenaded someone he was interested in at his workplace with a song involving sex toys. Kurt just hoped and prayed Blaine wouldn't do the same thing to him. Isabella would find that _way_ too funny) well past the time Blaine was supposed to be there.

After Kurt had been waiting there for two hours with no sign of or word from Blaine, Charlie dragged him off the couch and starting introducing him to people and helping him mingle. Kurt made sure to stay only pleasantly buzzed, and by the time midnight struck, he was well-acquainted with all of Blaine's friends, still tipsy, and no closer to dating the guy in question. Kurt left once Charlie was so drunk he decided Halloween was like New Year's Eve and kept trying to incessantly kiss Kurt.

* * *

"_I am so sorry_," was the way Blaine answered the phone the next morning as Kurt made himself coffee. "_I didn't stand you up, I swear_."

"I wasn't particularly concerned," Kurt said, fighting a little bit of a hangover with some aspirin. "Your friends are nice. They told me some awesome stories about you."

"_Oh, no_."

"Charlie, especially, I got to know well. And to answer your earlier concerns, no, they're not nearly as crazy as my friends, but they are fun. I would have stayed past midnight, except Charlie kept trying to kiss me, and if I hadn't been wearing a unitard I'm sure he would have been trying to get his hand down my pants too."

"_You were wearing a..._" Blaine sounded like he was drooling, and Kurt felt justly proud. "_I'm sorry about him_," he continued after a moment, once he had stopped fantasizing (Kurt guessed), "_he's kind a slut and a little bit of a bastard, but he's a good guy_."

"I'm aware. Like I said, I got to know him quite well."

"_You didn't kiss him, did you_?" Blaine asked, but he didn't sound angry. He sounded sad.

"Of course not," Kurt said, rolling his eyes even though Blaine couldn't see him, "we _are_ exclusive. So, what's the story?" he asked as he turned on the morning news.

"_My car wouldn't start back up and my cell died, I was all alone at the creepy gas station, and even the owner didn't have jumper cables. I had to use a pay phone to call local towing companies, but no one wanted to tow me into the city, and eventually I had to call about six towing companies in the city before I found one who would leave the city to bring me into it. This is one of those pain in the ass things about having a car. Besides parking_."

"Why do you even have a car in a city?" Kurt asked, not particularly bothered to grill Blaine on his explanation. It wasn't like he didn't believe him, it was just their luck, and why else would Blaine have bailed after calling Kurt?

"_The necessity of travel. I found a garage that will hold it for a long time for a low rate each month though, which is good._" Blaine sighed. "_I really am sorry about last night_."

"I'm not angry," Kurt assured his almost-boyfriend.

"_Now, what exactly did my friends tell you_? _Because whatever they said, it was a lie_." Kurt died laughing.

* * *

"Are we going to see every one of Blaine's shows?" Rachel asked, annoyed. Kurt had dragged her to the Bernard B. Jacobs Theatre to see Blaine's show during the first week of November.

"Absolutely," Kurt said, annoying her further as he took her hand and led her into the theatre. Just to really upset her, he made sure to get them both the T-shirts that had Blaine on them before they headed into the theatre, Rachel trailing behind him and complaining about them acting like 'tacky tourists or college kids.' She hated college kids so much, Kurt wouldn't be surprised if she had conveniently forgotten she once was one.

Blaine had definitely scored by agreeing to go on a date with Max Tiffany. He played 'Guy', and as one of the most revered rolls on Broadway since it had originally debuted, Blaine was opening doors for himself in the best way. Kurt was insanely proud of him.

He was ridiculous, Kurt had decided by the intermission, one of the beers they sold on stage clutched tightly in his hand. He could barely handle watching Blaine play a _girl's_ love interest, he was that obsessed with the man he was exclusively not-dating. Watching Blaine sing with her and fall in love with her (he really was an excellent actor, he had gotten much better since that performance of _RENT_. His chemistry with his Mimi had been amazing, their connection on stage weak) was absurdly painful, but getting to see Blaine again made it worth it. Thankfully, Rachel reminded him to text Blaine during the intermission that he was there.

From: Blaine  
**'Great, I can't wait to see you. I hope you know I'm picturing that girl on stage to be you.'**

Kurt hadn't been expecting a response, but that one took his breath away. Then his phone buzzed again.

From: Blaine  
**'No more stage door stuff. Come backstage, I'll be waiting for you in my dressing room. Just hop up on stage and tell the guy glaring at everyone who looks like they might have a camera your name.'**

"I'm meeting him backstage," Kurt whispered excitedly to Rachel as she returned from getting herself a beer and him a refill; she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"Show time," she muttered, and Kurt thought for a moment she was talking about him and Blaine, but then the lights went down. Jeez, she had an uncanny intermission clock.

By the time the show had reached it's depressing end, Kurt was practically bouncing in his chair, excited to see Blaine. He knew that Blaine could see him now that he was looking at the front row instead of just walking by it without a glance.

"I'll distract the paparazzi," Rachel whispered as he stood up, making him laugh. Rachel was extremely excited that she had finally gotten her dream role, Elphaba, and she probably would be stealing the spotlight from the _Once_ cast at the stage door if she went out there. "Good luck."

"Kurt Hummel," he said to the very intimidating camera-guy, who nodded and pointed him backstage.

"Door at the end of the hallway on the right," camera guy said helpfully, and Kurt thanked him as he headed for the door. Kurt laughed at the cheesy gold star with Blaine's name on it before he knocked.

"If you're not who I want you to be, go away. If you are, come in," Blaine said cryptically, but Kurt came in, guessing he was who Blaine had been waiting for, and was immediately engulfed in a hug.

"Hey," Blaine said casually, still squeezing the life out of him.

"Oxygen?" Kurt requested, and Blaine released him, but still kept him close.

"I missed you," Blaine said, as if it hadn't been obviously from the hug.

"I missed you too," Kurt replied, kissing his cheek. "You were great tonight, out there."

"I already told you why," Blaine said with a smile, but he wasn't flirting or teasing, he was being honest.

"Well, I appreciate it, but let's not have our story end like _Once_."

"Deal." Blaine grabbed Kurt's hand and dragged him out of his dressing room, down the hall, across the stage, down the other wing, and finally to what looked like temporary rehearsal space. "This is where we practice right before the shows," Blaine answered the questions written all over Kurt's face. "I was hoping, before you inevitably get whisked away again by unfortunate circumstances, that we could level the playing field a little."

"Meaning?" Kurt asked, sitting at the piano bench when Blaine gestured to it.

"Meaning I've only heard you sing on a recording, and you've heard me sing live three times... that I know of," Blaine said with a grin.

"You want to sing with me?" Kurt asked.

"Why do you sound so surprised? You're not only a Broadway legend in your own mind, you know? You originated Zanna from _Zanna Don't_ and brought _bare_ to Broadway." Kurt shrugged. "You're amazing, Kurt."

"I'd love to sing with you," Kurt said, not having any answer to Blaine's compliments or research. "Though I do see that I'm not the only one who's been looking around with the help of Google." Blaine laughed.

"I wish I had been able to find out first hand," Blaine said with a smile, pulling over a guitar and a stool. "I think I can think of an appropriate song."

"I might have just heard one," Kurt teased, beginning to play.

Kurt was playing the familiar melody and singing the words he had memorized by the third time he had watched the movie, before _Once_ was even _on _Broadway on autopilot, focused more on his gorgeous duet partner than singing to the best of his vocal potential. The song wasn't particularly difficult for him. _Falling Slowly_ had been a constant in his life, from obnoxious duets between Finn and Rachel to gorgeous renditions by talented actors and actresses, all of whom had wanted to tackle the song that was so famous. No one had sounded quite as good to him as Blaine did right now, singing with him. It didn't hurt that they had locked eyes, Blaine's practically smoldering. Kurt almost messed up the melody when one of his fingers slipped off the keys, his focus completely on the man he was singing with.

"_I'll sing it loud_," they sang in perfect harmony, and Kurt's hands slipped off the keys almost exactly as Blaine stopped playing. Both of them had entirely forgotten about the last few words as Blaine leaned forward slowly. The air in the room was electric, and Kurt had goose bumps. Not only did they sound amazing together, but Kurt wanted to kiss Blaine so badly it was practically an ache. They were close enough that they were sharing breath, ignoring the fact that Blaine's guitar was still squished between them, Blaine leaning over it to...

'_(And There's The Choice That We Make) (And This Choice You Will Take) Who's Laughin' Baby? So Just Leave Me Alone, Leave Me Alone'_ Kurt's phone rang, breaking the spell and making Blaine jerk away.

"I'm sorry, I..." Kurt sputtered, hating his brother so much in that moment he wanted to kill him.

"No, it's fine, you should..." Blaine breathed heavily. "You should take that."

"It's just my brother," Kurt explained as he hit accept. "What?" he hissed into the phone as Blaine placed his guitar on the ground.

"_Dude, Sam's wicked sick,_" Finn said over the line, obviously not picking up on Kurt's tone. "_He's been puking for like ten minutes and I'm worried about him, but you know how I feel about puke..."_

"Either man up or take him to the hospital, Finn, I'm a little busy!" Kurt snapped, making Blaine chuckle. "My roommate's sick," Kurt explained.

"Go ahead," Blaine said. "I'm sure this is fate, intervening as usual, and if we don't listen to it now, I'm sure it'll find a much more dramatic way to make itself heard, probably in the form of Rachel. Go ahead."

"I'm _so_ sorry," Kurt apologized, but Blaine just shook his head and smiled.

"I'm sure we'll see each other again soon. Go," Kurt leaned forward and hugged Blaine, kissing him on the cheek and resisting the urge to kiss him on the mouth. Now was obviously not the time, especially considering if Sam was sick Kurt probably had the bug too.

"_Dude! Kurt?"_ he heard Finn's voice out of his phone, but he left his brother waiting for a few seconds longer to send a text off to Rachel.

"I really hate you," Kurt said to his brother before he hung up.

* * *

"I'm really sorry I crashed your moment with Blaine," Sam apologized the next day, curled up on the couch in about a hundred blankets as Kurt made him hot chocolate.

"It's fine, Sam, you couldn't help it." Of course, if Finn had called a second later there was no way he would have answered, but that was beside the point.

"I'm serious, Kurt, I hope I didn't screw anything up." Sam looked so pitiful and so sick, Kurt couldn't be vindictive, and he couldn't even yell at Finn without Sam hearing and feeling bad.

"It's fine. Blaine and I get interrupted all the time. At least Finn is not as bad as Puck." That made Sam laugh, remembering LA.

"Yeah, but Puck paid for that one, big time." Kurt shrugged. He hadn't _permanently_ injured his former teammate.

"Oh he's fine, the big baby," Kurt said with a huff. "How are you feeling?"

"A lot better actually. Inconvenient timing, huh?" Kurt rolled his eyes.

"Sam, relax. It wasn't your fault that you interrupted my moment with Blaine, and I'm sure we'll get some more time together before the year is up." Kurt was trying to take a leaf from Blaine's book. Optimism. It was freakin' difficult.

"So, what did this _moment_ consist of?" Sam asked, waggling his eyebrows as Kurt's face heated up. Damn his pale skin. Sam had always been uncommonly accepting, which was amazing, but also meant he had a tendency to tease Kurt inappropriately about guys, which was less so.

"I don't kiss and tell," Kurt replied, trying to ignore how red he was sure his face was.

"Ooh la la," Sam said with a laugh. "Come on, I'm done embarrassing you. Want to watch The Big Bang Theory?"

"Don't tell Finn," Kurt said sternly as he sat on the couch next to Sam. "I will never hear the end of it if he finds out I actually like this show."

"I figure I owe you one," Sam said, smiling and punching Kurt lightly on the shoulder.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, Charlie has made an appearance. Lots of wonderful glorious interaction in this chapter, some even face to face, and lots of meddling roommates. I hope you enjoyed, and I'm sorry I'm once again posting on Tuesday, but this Monday was a holiday!**

**Songs used/mentioned:  
**'_Tune Up #2_' from _RENT_  
'_Falling_ Slowly' from Once  
'_Leave Me Alone_' by Michael Jackson

**Reviews are Love.**


	5. Winter 2017-2018

**Winter 2017-2018**

"_What do you mean you're not hosting the Christmas party?_" Quinn asked over the phone, sounding thoroughly shocked and upset.

"Q, my darling, over the past year: I've acquired not one, but two roommates; been to three shows staring the man I am exclusively not-dating; helped Isabelle negotiate five major contracts; done photography for the cover of Vogue; been a model for a Marc Jacobs spread; visited Los Angeles, California to see all of you crazies; scouted a billion crummy, sketchy theatres looking for the next Broadway star; and had to deal with Rachel and her Paul problems almost twenty-four seven. I need a break, and Christmas is my time to do it. I'm kicking both of my roommates out for two days, and having a little bit of _me_ time. I need it."

"_But Christmas is your favorite holiday_," Quinn said, as if this wasn't something he had already considered. "_It even ranks higher than Fashion Week_."

"Bah! Humbug!" Kurt announced, and Quinn gasped over-dramatically.

"_How much does this have to do with the man you're exclusively not-dating_?" Quinn asked, and then squeaked. "_Oh my God, is the real reason you're avoiding our reunion because you're spending Christmas with him? You can just admit that, we're all supportive! Oh, gosh, that's so _romantic_!_"

"Have you been taking drama lessons from Rachel or something?" Kurt asked, and he knew Quinn was rolling her eyes at him. "This has nothing to do with Blaine. I'm not spending Christmas with him, I'm sure he has plans with his crazy friends. I need some time to get my life in order, and Christmas is the time to do it."

Quinn sighed. "_At least tell me what you want_."

"Quinn, the perfect gift for me would be solitude. I just need to wrap up the year in peace and relax. This year has been crazy, and I need to catch my breath."

"_Fine, be like that_. _We'll make some other crazy New Yorker host the Christmas party_." Quinn hung up on him as Kurt rolled his eyes at her.

"Women," he muttered to himself. He had also kicked his roommates out for the day to decorate for Christmas, because he still loved the holiday. He had put up and decorated the tree meticulously, hung holly and placed mistletoe in the doorway to Finn's room to see if he could embarrass both of his roommates, and the last thing to do was flip over the calendar. The December page showed a cheesy scene of evergreens covered in sparkling snow, and Kurt was ready for the year to be over.

His next task was his slew of invites, both private and professional. He turned down a ton of parties every year, but this year was the only time he was going to turn down every single one of them. He would attend no parties until he hung a new calendar on the wall, January 1st. Once he had turned down invites from past Broadway friends, directors, and producers, as well as from everyone he worked with at Vogue (including the official Vogue Christmas party, a very elite party he was thrilled not to be attending) and several personal friends he had just met randomly (some from high school; once people had discovered his success, they were very inclined to test his excellent memory), he turned to Christmas cards. He made sure to send one to everyone who invited him to a party, one to every member of the Glee club he wasn't currently living with, one to Burt and Carole, and one to Isabella (she loved getting them). Their cards this year featured a cheesy picture of him, Finn, and Sam, the latter two acting like morons and him posing like a normal human being, with a Christmas tree photo-shopped in the background.

After he finished placing cards in their envelopes and putting addresses on them, he made sure to make a few phone calls where RSVP's by phone were required, which was always a begging process. Isabella, of course, understood how crazy his year had been, but old directors and friends pleaded with him until he hung up on them. Then he made hot chocolate with cinnamon and marshmallows for him and the roommates he was expecting any minute, and sat back and relaxed.

* * *

Christmas Eve was the best day of the year, Kurt decided as he relaxed on his couch, glancing up at his calendar. 23 red exes, made with Sharpie, confirmed that it was in fact the 24th of December, 2017, and Kurt was all alone. As sad as that sounded, he was thrilled. He was covered in blankets and cozy with hot chocolate after a long trudge home through the snow that was gently falling. He had been ordered by Mercedes to stop by Rachel's party for a moment, to say hi to everyone (was what they told Rachel), and to see how horrible Rachel's parties remained (they hadn't gotten much better from junior year: the Rachel Berry House Party Train Wreck Extravaganza) in an attempt to convince him to return to being the host (which was the honest reason, and the one they concealed from Rachel). He had left after the third person had called it the Rachel Berry Apartment Party Jewish Christmas Train Wreck Extravaganza, Part II. Everyone picked on Rachel for being Jewish and simultaneously being a part of their Christmas, but Kurt thought it was sweet.

Either way, he was done thinking about them. There was a minuscule turkey in the oven, happily provided by the A&P in the ironically named West New York, New Jersey. There was stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, cornbread... what was he forgetting?

"Shit," Kurt swore as he threw off his blankets, alone and not caring about his language. What about the cranberry sauce? How had he forgotten about the cranberry sauce on his perfect Christmas Eve?

Kurt muttered some more bad words as he headed for the door, checking to make sure his turkey wouldn't overcook while he was gone and putting on his heavy snow boots. There was an all-night grocery about four blocks from his apartment, but he really didn't want to have to go out in the snow. Why did it have to be snowing? The magic of the movie White Christmas aside, snow was more of a nuisance than anything.

By the time Kurt reached the grocery, he was frozen down to his bones, his fingers and ears completely numb. Even his coat hadn't been enough to protect him from the snow; with the wind whipping it around, there was snow down his back and front, and he just wanted to be at _home_.

Kurt grabbed some cranberry sauce quickly, knowing it wouldn't be as good as homemade, but that's what he got for forgetting about it. Kurt muttered some unflattering words about snow, and winter, and cranberries, as he got in line, until...

"Kurt?" his head snapped up at the familiar voice.

"Blaine," he said, trying not to sound reverent. "What are you doing here?"

"It's the only all-night grocery near my apartment, and without Charlie to nag me I've been kind of forgetful." Kurt raised an eyebrow. "I'm spending this one alone," he said. "Need a break; this year's been crazy." Well, Kurt could certainly understand that one.

"Me too, but why are you..."

At the same time, they looked at what each other was holding and said, "You mean you forgot cranberries too?" They looked at each other and died laughing, barely able to stand up.

"This is... completely crazy," Blaine said once they had calmed down, but he was smiling like 'crazy' wasn't a bad thing. "I can't believe I ran into you on Christmas Eve."

"You know what the crazy thing is?" Kurt asked, and Blaine raised an eyebrow. "I promised my friends I wasn't avoiding them because I was spending Christmas with you, and now I think I might end up breaking that promise."

"Have enough for two?" Blaine asked, and Kurt nodded.

"I'm so used to cooking for two animals in addition to me that I kind of forgot what cooking for one is like. I could use some help eating my extras." Blaine laughed at Kurt's obvious flirting.

"Well, you're probably further along in the cooking process than I am, so by all means," Blaine agreed, stepping out of line (not that there really was one. More like waiting behind the counter for the cashier to realize he miraculously had customers) and placing his cranberry sauce back on the shelf.

"You know what," Kurt said, stepping out of line as well. "I don't think I can bring myself to serve you this," he held up the can of cranberry sauce, "I think you deserve the full Kurt Hummel experience." He put the can back and went to grab some actual cranberries, some orange juice, and some sugar.

"I like the sound of that," Blaine said with a wink.

"In the _kitchen_," Kurt clarified, trying to ignore the fact that he was blushing like crazy.

"If that's what you're into." It was at this point Kurt gave up.

"I need some sort of bell." Kurt looked around for some way to let the cashier know there were idiots at a grocery store on Christmas Eve.

"What are you lovebirds doing here?" the cashier was an older woman, probably in her fifties or sixties, with gray streaks in her blonde hair. "Forget about cranberry sauce?"

"Yes, ma'am," Blaine said formally, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist and making him giggle. He didn't mind in the slightest that the woman had mistaken them for a couple. Maybe, after tonight, she wouldn't be so mistaken after all.

"Aw, Merry Christmas to ya," she said with a smile as she rang them up. Blaine paid after a brief argument, they wished the woman 'Merry Christmas' in return, and they were headed through the snow towards Kurt's place.

"Wow, for someone who's spending Christmas with hot chocolate and his cat, you sure went all out," Blaine said, looking around at the apartment, which was fairly well lit with only Christmas lights.

"I don't have a cat," Kurt argued as he set about preparing the cranberry sauce. "Finn is allergic. This will only take me a bit, and then we'll have to let it cool. Make yourself at home."

"That I will," Blaine said, wrapping an arm around Kurt's waist again as he cooked to press a quick kiss to Kurt's flushed-from-the-cold cheek. "It's nice that there will be a white Christmas."

"I would guess you didn't get too many of those in LA," Kurt said, half teasing, half pity.

"You would be entirely correct. Though, one extremely weird year that convinced about half of the south that global warming was happening exactly as Al Gore predicted, we did, and it was pretty awesome. The TV studios were annoyed though." Kurt giggled at that.

"I assure you that was not the case in Ohio," Kurt promised, making Blaine chuckle. "This white nuisance has been haunting me for as long as my brother has. Longer, even."

"Speaking of your roommates, did you finally kill them or did they have plans?" Blaine asked with a smile, watching Kurt cook and looking perfectly content.

"The latter, though I've considered the former several times this month."

"Including _Once_?"

"Including _Once_," Kurt confirmed.

"It's, uh, probably better that we didn't, you know." Kurt turned to look at Blaine quizzically as his cranberries started to pop. "Fate probably wouldn't have liked that. It kind of hates us." Kurt laughed, as much as he hated how Fate had intervened between them constantly for the past year.

"That's true," Kurt agreed. "Besides, Rachel would have interrupted us if Sam hadn't, puking."

"Is that what happened?" Kurt nodded. "Poor guy."

"You would be sympathetic to the idiot that interrupted our moment." Kurt rolled his eyes. "You're too nice."

"'Our moment', huh?" Kurt flushed.

"Just... what I've been referring to that as," he tried to dismiss the term.

"I like the sound of that." Blaine smiled.

"Is that your catchphrase or something?" Kurt asked, realizing how often Blaine had said that.

"Maybe I just really like you," Blaine said with a smile. "I'm surprised you didn't have plans tonight. You're always busy," he continued after a moment of silence.

"Turned down all my wild and highfalutin parties," Kurt announced, not regretting his decision in the least. "I needed a breather, and Christmas is my favorite holiday, so why not?"

"I know how that feels," Blaine said as Kurt sat down next to him, leaving the cranberry sauce in the freezer, trying to aid the cooling and thickening process. "And to be honest, there's no one I would rather spend my Christmas with." Blaine swept a bit of hair off Kurt's forehead, smiling softly. Kurt realized he was leaning in and placed a hand on his chest to stop him.

"Now now, okay?" Kurt wasn't sure why he was stopping Blaine; it just didn't feel right. After all the time they had spend dancing around each other and bowing to their ridiculous schedules, it didn't seem... special enough. Thankfully, Blaine didn't ask, because Kurt's explanation sounded odd even to him. "How about we eat?"

"Shouldn't we wait for the sauce to thicken a little?" Blaine asked. He clearly knew more about cooking than Kurt had given him credit for knowing.

"A chef, Blaine?" Kurt asked, making Blaine pink a little for the first time.

"I know a little about cooking, but I would be absolutely hopeless trying to actually make something." Kurt laughed at that.

"Maybe I'll teach you some time," Kurt offered. "And as for the sauce, I think we deal with it being a little runny."

"We can wait a few more minutes," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. "Are you always this impatient?"

"Absolutely," Kurt answered automatically.

"Of course you are," but Blaine was smiling again. "I hope I'm not crashing your relaxing Christmas too much."

"This is better than any other Christmas I ever could have imagined," Kurt said honestly, making Blaine's face light up, "and I can definitely relax around you."

"I'm glad." Blaine took Kurt's hand and squeezed it. "To be honest, your friends seem rather uptight and quite stressful."

"You have no idea," Kurt practically groaned. "Someday, I will kill them all."

"Mass homicide," Blaine commented, "way to get into the Christmas spirit, Hummel."

"I hold a Christmas party every year, _Anderson_," Kurt spat in return, "and Christmas is my favorite holiday. It's just been... a long year." Blaine didn't say anything, he said everything he needed to by kissing Kurt's knuckles softly. After a few minutes of extremely comfortable silence, Blaine stood, prompting Kurt to ask where he was going.

"Do you have a stereo in here, or an iPod speaker?" Blaine replied wildly unhelpfully. Kurt pointed to the iPod speaker on the bookshelf that he and Rachel had used for practice, curious as to Blaine's intent. Pulling an old-fashioned blue iPod out of his pocket, Blaine placed it in the speaker and started scrolling.

"Should I ask, or just leave you to your own devices?"

"It's Christmas Eve." Kurt hummed the beginning of the Pink Panther theme song. "And Christmas Eve is supposed to be a joyous occasion, not one we spend moping in solidarity over how stressful the year has been. Let's just... forget for a bit, okay?" Blaine asked, turning just as the first few notes of _White Christmas_ flooded from Kurt's speaker.

"Very cute," Kurt said, smiling at his song choice. Blaine grabbed his hand and pulled him off the couch, spinning him around in time to the music and making him laugh. Blaine was cheesy, but he was sweet, and Kurt was admittedly having fun dancing like idiots to Christmas carols in his living room, occasionally singing along and almost knocking over several lamps.

Blaine pulled him close as _Grown-Up Christmas List _began to play, smiling softly and wrapping his arms around Kurt's waist. Kurt pressed himself against Blaine, putting his head on the tenor's shoulder despite the crick he would get in his neck because Blaine was shorter than he was. He was content just to slow dance in his living room like the sappiest couple in the world. Blaine kissed the side of his head softly, and Kurt really didn't want to break apart by the time the song was over. _Baby It's Cold Outside_ was almost halfway done by the time they separated.

"I," Blaine cleared his throat, his voice scratchy, "I think the cranberry sauce will have thickened enough for us to eat." Blaine's stomach rumbled. "And frankly, I'm starving." Kurt laughed at that, releasing Blaine and grabbing all of the food off the counters and from the fridge, placing it on his little table.

"It's probably still going to be ridiculously runny," Kurt said as he pulled out the cranberry sauce, but Blaine just shrugged, so Kurt went with it. The dinner was good (despite Kurt's best efforts, Blaine had distracted him from his cooking schedule so the turkey was a little dry. Blaine insisted it was fine, but he couldn't fool Kurt that easily), but the cranberry sauce was so runny it was ridiculous, and they ended up spilling more cranberry sauce on Kurt's nice, white tablecloth than eating it. At first Blaine had apologized profusely for spilling some, until Kurt did so very intentionally, and then they had begun a contest to see who could dribble the most interesting design in cranberry sauce. His tablecloth ended up looking much _better_ than it had in the store.

"Okay, so you're officially the chef in this relationship," Blaine admitted after he had been declared the winner of the cranberry sauce drawing competition. "That cranberry sauce needed more time." Kurt hummed the Pink Panther theme again. "That's not funny," Blaine said with a glare, but he was trying not to smile at the same time, and failing.

"I'm going to hum that every time you state the obvious," Kurt said, and Blaine rolled his eyes, but they were both smiling. Kurt ignored the word 'relationship' for the moment (having the 'where is this going?' talk was not something he planned to do and ruin his perfect Christmas Eve with Blaine. No way).

"Fine. I'll try not to." Kurt saw the light bulb go off in Blaine's head. He had no idea what Blaine was thinking, but his epiphany was written all over his face. "I have an idea." Kurt hummed the Pink Panther. "Oh, come on!"

"Sorry, but anyone with eyes could tell that you had an idea," Kurt said, shrugging, but Blaine let it slide.

"Do you have a keyboard?"

"More music?"

"You said you wanted to see some of my songs, how about you help me figure one out?" Kurt stood up and headed for Finn's bedroom, pretty certain the keyboard had ended up in there when he had wanted to hide it from Rachel. He grabbed it out from under Finn's towering mountain of laundry (Kurt kept the rest of the apartment clean; Finn's room was his own issue. He was just surprised his girlfriend Angela hadn't torn him a new one for the mess yet. She hadn't been around lately...) and almost bumped straight into Blaine where he had been waiting in Finn's doorway. His eyes flickered up by themselves (he would swear when he was telling the story later), he had no control over them. Blaine's followed.

"Mistletoe." Kurt didn't hum the Pink Panther theme that time, as tempting as it was. He was a little busy simultaneously regretting putting the mistletoe up (he wanted his first kiss with Blaine to be ridiculously romantic, like something out of a movie) and extremely happy the keyboard had been in Finn's room instead of his (getting the opportunity to kiss the man one has been chasing all year is never a bad thing). Oh, and his heart was doing a quickstep in his throat.

"Yeah," he said dumbly to break the tense silence. Blaine took the keyboard from where it had almost fallen from his suddenly numb and sweaty hands, and leaned it against the door frame.

"Did you know that while mistletoe has been considered holy for thousands of years, and people have been kissing under it for centuries, the connection between the two isn't entirely clear to history? Supposedly it came from Scandinavian mythology, specifically the myth of Baldur, son of the Scandinavian goddess Frigga who overlooked the mistletoe plant-"

"You're rambling," Kurt cut him off, realizing Blaine was just as unreasonably nervous as he was. Then Blaine started humming the Pink Panther theme song, and both of them died laughing, practically falling over in hysteria, still underneath the mistletoe Kurt had hung in Finn's doorway. "Touche," Kurt said once they had calmed down, wiping a few stray tears from his eyes.

"We are the most ridiculous people on the planet, aren't we?" Blaine asked. Instead of answering, Kurt leaned forward and kissed him softly, trying to ignore all the fairytale notions of fireworks and sparks he had been mentally picturing until they actually happened. Blaine pulled away after a few seconds, smiling softly and pressing their foreheads together. "I am ridiculously crazy about you."

"Ditto," Kurt admitted, giving Blaine a quick peck. "I'd love to hear that song of yours now."

"Oh, right, we actually had a reason for walking directly under the only mistletoe in your apartment." Kurt laughed, loving it when Blaine was sassy. "Come on," Blaine said, picking up the keyboard with one arm and grabbing Kurt's hand with the other.

"Sap," Kurt complained, but he didn't mind at all.

Blaine's song, entitled _Christmas Eve With You_, was entirely cheesy, as cheesy as Blaine had been all night, and for the first verse and chorus Kurt was entirely convinced that Blaine was making it up on the spot. When Blaine had sung an entire song, however, Kurt realized as talented as the tenor was, even he (probably) couldn't make up an entire song on the spot. They spent a few run-throughs working on the harmonies, singing the whole thing together, and then Blaine looked at Kurt with the biggest puppy-dog eyes he had ever seen (and he practiced his in the mirror), obviously waiting for critique.

"You, and your song, are absolute cheese balls," Kurt said finally, giving Blaine another peck and marveling at the fact that was totally normal now and that everything felt perfectly natural with Blaine, "and I really like that about you, and it."

"All Christmas songs are a little cheesy," Blaine said, smiling like an idiot (Kurt probably had the same expression on his face), "and I'm glad my Christmas song, which I actually wrote before I met you, believe it or not, came so completely true."

"Cheese ball." Kurt leaned over to kiss Blaine and the tenor, unapologetic, knocked the keyboard away, leaning in to deepen the kiss and pulling Kurt close, close enough to his side on the couch that he was almost on Blaine's lap. For the record: he was not a slut, but _God,_ the things he wanted to do to Blaine at this point... and he assuredly would have done all of them if there hadn't been a knock at his door.

"Fuck you, Fate, we're still winning," Blaine muttered, obviously annoyed, once they parted, and Kurt giggled all the way to the door.

"You dirty rotten liar!" Quinn announced as soon as he opened the door, storming in with an abnormal amount of rage in her voice. "You told me that you weren't ditching us for him, and you lied!"

"For the record," Kurt began, remaining calm in the face of female craziness (Blaine looked kind of thrown, poor thing. He obviously hasn't dealt with enough women for this), "when I said that it wasn't a lie. This was a complete, and extremely fortunate, coincidence." Quinn looked back and forth between a slightly ruffled Kurt and a still gob-smacked looking Blaine, and then _she_ was the one with a light bulb going off.

"Did I just interrupt something?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at Kurt.

"A little," Kurt said, unashamed. He was an adult, he had every right to sleep with whomever he pleased, even if he _had_ been dating him for less than an hour. The year between meeting him and now had to count for something!

"Too bad," Quinn said, changing from curious to surly without a moment's notice. "Coats, mittens, hats, both of you. _You_, sir Hummel, are spending some time with your adoptive family, whether you want to or not."

"Quinn, with all due respect, get the hell out of my apartment or I will call the police on you. Or worse, call Finn to drive over here, pick you up in a fireman's hold, and carrying you out crying and screaming. This is New York. No one will even give you a second look." Quinn looked shocked, but when Kurt steered her out the door, she went with little resistance.

"I apologize for her," Kurt said once he had heard high heels down the hallway, sitting back on the couch as close to Blaine as possible without sitting on him. "I think she's a little tipsy, and she's a rather angry drunk."

"The universe really does hate us, doesn't it?" Blaine complained, looking up at Kurt's ceiling as though it had all the answers.

"Forty-two," Kurt said casually.

"Excuse me?" Blaine asked, his voice rising in pitch due to surprise. It was probably the last thing the tenor had expected Kurt to say, and that's exactly why he said it.

"You look like you're looking for the answer to the universe on my ceiling. I just wanted to let you know that it's forty-two." There was a beat of absolute silence, and then Blaine cracked up.

"You're as much of a nerd as I am!" he accused, still gasping for breath between fits of laughter.

"No. I'm not laughing so hard I'm almost braying," Kurt commented casually, which made Blaine laugh so hard he was fighting to breathe. Kurt was relying on years of actor training to fight off his smile. Gaga, his boyfriend was cute. "My boyfriend," he repeated to himself under his breath, smiling like an idiot.

"Pardon?" There was no possible way, according to the normal laws of the universe, that Blaine could have heard that. Blaine's laughter had blocked out the soft Christmas music they had left playing, and the sounds of sex from the apartment underneath them, which Kurt had expected at around this time of night. It was not possible that he could have heard the two soft words Kurt had uttered. Yet, he had.

"Nothing," Kurt said, his cheeks heating. "Just marveling in the fact that we're actually dating to go with our exclusiveness."

"Are we?" Blaine asked, and for one horrible moment, Kurt thought he had misinterpreted everything. "Kidding," Blaine said, cracking a smile, and Kurt was not too mature to throw a pillow at him.

"That was not funny," Kurt said, trying to act surly but fighting off another smile.

"Yes it was," Blaine said, looking up at him with those big puppy eyes. Kurt knew that he had no chance of resisting them. Blaine leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Kurt's lips. "I would try for more, but then Rachel would barrel in, I guarantee it." Kurt giggled.

"Well, the universe did bring us together for Christmas Eve. Maybe it's not so horrible after all." Blaine appeared to consider that, and then kissed Kurt again.

"Maybe," he said finally. "But I still don't-" Blaine cut himself off yawning. "Sorry, I guess it's getting late," he excused himself. "Anyway, I still don't like the universe. It's kind of sent too many obnoxious interruptions."

"Those are my friends you're talking about!" Kurt said, pretending to act offended. Blaine didn't fall for it.

"Exactly."

"Touche," Kurt said. "We can head to bed, if you want. It's almost midnight."

"As much as I would love to stay up with you until tomorrow, I'm not five anymore and I actually require sleep on Christmas Eve. I'm sure Santa will be pleased." Kurt giggled. "Finn won't mind me crashing in his bed?" Blaine asked, and Kurt's brow furrowed.

"Why would you be sleeping in Finn's bed?" he asked, obviously a little slow.

"Well, the couch is comfortable too," Blaine hedged, looking equally confused. "And it's a lot neater in here than it is in Finn's room. Smells better too."

"Blaine, can we act like adults, please? You're sleeping with _me_." Blaine raised an eyebrow and Kurt flushed bright red. "I don't mean... well, at least not now, I meant..."

"It's too easy," Blaine said, cupping Kurt's warm cheeks in his hands and smiling, pressing a kiss to Kurt's lips, "to make you blush. Far too easy."

"Too bad I'm not that easy," Kurt said before he could suppress the urge, but Blaine just smiled.

"Not really. Life wouldn't be fun if it was easy."

"I think that's the wisest thing I've ever heard you say. Maybe _winter _is actually your philosophical season." Blaine laughed at the memory.

"That was the worst traffic jam of all time. I was ready to kill everyone in Washington D.C. just to get out of it."

"Mass homicide," Kurt echoed Blaine's earlier words, "way to get into the Christmas spirit, Anderson."

"Touche," Blaine said, giving Kurt another kiss. "Let's go to bed."

Blaine was almost asleep by the time Kurt had finished his moisturizing routine (having a hot man in one's bed was a good excuse to skip it, but Kurt had done so far too often during 2017, and he didn't want to be wrinkly at thirty), but he looked so cute Kurt didn't even care. He had washed most of the gel out of his hair during his quick shower (Kurt had let him go first. He was the guest, and he only needed like twenty minutes total. Yet, his skin was still gorgeous. Kurt didn't understand) and he was curled up under the blankets, looking very young, very relaxed, and very happy.

"Hey," Blaine muttered as Kurt crawled in next to him, proving that he was still semi-conscious. "You have really nice sheets."

"Egyptian cotton," Kurt replied, and smiled to himself with Blaine snuggled up against him. He was grateful: he got to cuddle with Blaine on Christmas Eve (more so than they already had) _and_ he didn't have to admit to being the Snuggle Monster in the relationship.

"Goodnight, Kurt," Blaine muttered, and Kurt was absolutely positive Blaine was already asleep by the time he echoed the sentiment.

* * *

**A/N: Hooray! They're dating. Story OVER. Kind of. I wrote an epilogue because I couldn't resist. But main part of story OVER. I'm sorry it is early Saturday morning, and not late Friday, but I was busy yesterday. Sorry.**

**Songs used/mentioned (oh boy):  
**'_White Christmas_' by Irving Berlin  
'_Grown-Up Christmas List_' by Amy Grant  
'_Baby, It's Cold Outside_' by Frank Loesser and Lynn Garland  
'_Christmas Eve with You_' by Glee **(which I stole for Blaine)**  
the Pink Panther theme song :)

**Reviews are Love (and remind me that I need to post)**


	6. Epilogue: Spring 2018

**Spring 2018**

"I'm really nervous about this," Blaine admitted as he fumbled with his tie.

"You're twenty-four. Can't you tie a tie?" Kurt teased, but he felt bad for Blaine. His friends were very intimidating.

"Normally, but my hands are shaking really badly," Blaine admitted, and Kurt walked over to help.

"Don't worry," Kurt soothed his nervous boyfriend as he tied the tie with sure fingers, "they'll love you."

"How can you be so sure?" Blaine asked, and Kurt could hear the nerves in his voice now.

"Because I do," Kurt promised, and Blaine smiled and kissed him softly.

"I love you too."

Rachel and he had argued the Saturday in January before he first told Blaine that he loved him. They had only been officially dating for about a month, but the year they had spent chasing each other all around the great city of New York had to count for something (that was Kurt's argument, at least). In the end, Kurt had not listened to his former roommate at all, and he hadn't regretted it when Blaine's face had lit up and he returned the sentiment near instantaneously.

What had really made Rachel nervous? The Sunday in March Blaine had asked him to move in. Blaine's crazy roommates were moving to Los Angeles (one of them was almost as pale as Kurt, so he had found that ridiculously amusing), and, while Blaine could handle the rent, they felt it was the logical next step. They had been dating for almost three months (discounting Their Year, as Rachel called 2017), and Kurt had said 'yes' before he had even thought about it. Sam had at that point had no luck finding a place to live, though he had gotten a job shortly after New Year's, and he and Finn had remained roommates when Kurt moved out. Finn had broken up with Angela in February, but Kurt had suspected they had been having problems for months. Finn hadn't found anyone new yet.

They were still a happy couple in the comfort of Blaine's luxurious maisonette, deeply entrenched in the honeymoon stage and constantly mocked by Blaine's friends, who all lived nearby, some of them even in Blaine's building.

Speaking of happy couples, Kurt was tying Blaine's tie for him on a very special Saturday in April, the day Lucy Quinn Fabray officially became Quinn L. Lockwood (she had decided to legally change her name right before her wedding). That was where Blaine and Kurt were headed for the afternoon. The reason Blaine was so nervous was that, despite the amount of time Kurt had spent with his friends and the resulting familiarity with his new neighbors, Blaine had never spent any time around the New Directions (except, of course, for the times during which they were interrupting something. The only moment the New Directions had not managed to barge into was the first 'I love you' and it was a close call. Rachel had even walked in on the first time they had sex, back when he was living with Finn and Sam and she still invited herself over to his apartment. Now she at least called). Blaine was nervous, for some reason, that they were all going to hate him and Kurt was going to respect their opinions more than his own and break up with the tenor. Kurt's insistences that this was not going to happen and numerous examples of when he had listened to absolutely no one in the group and it had turned out better for him had not calmed Blaine's nerves.

"Ready for this?" Kurt asked as they headed out the door, and what little color Blaine still had in his face drained out instantly.

"Never."

* * *

The wedding was beautiful. Kurt had made sure of it, inserting himself into Quinn's planning as much as possible with her in Providence. He thanked social networking profusely in his speech at the bachelorette party (because he would always be androgynous to the New Directions), but Quinn surely hated it by now. The Glee club had mutually decided that if all of them couldn't be in the bridal party (Doctor Tye had objected, but Kurt didn't blame him), none of them would be. Surprisingly, the exception to the rule was Rachel, whom Quinn had asked to be her maid of honor. She was declared head of the bridesmaids that mostly consisted of Providence high society ladies. "The Real Housewives of Providence," Blaine had joked.

Kurt had also taken Blaine's car up to Providence a few times (during these ventures he had learned that traffic in New York was as bad as it looked from the sidewalks or the inside of a cab, and he had been shocked to realize how long it had been since he had actually driven anywhere. It took him a few minutes to get used to driving, which in New York Traffic Minutes is about one-quarter of a block, if you're lucky) and inserted himself into the wedding planning physically. However, he had gotten to know and thoroughly approve of the man Quinn was marrying, and carried the good news ("Quinn finally made a good choice as far as men go!" he had said, doing his best to insult Sam, Puck, Finn, and Joe all in one swipe) back to New York. Blaine had even come up with him once, and they had spent a nice weekend in the quiet solitude that was the busiest city in Rhode Island (it was nothing compared to New York).

Quinn's wedding was completely characteristic of her, simple and elegant. Kurt knew from his visits to the Lockwood residence that Doctor Tye had little to no say in any of the wedding plans, but Doctor Tye was just happy to see her happy. It was written all over his face near constantly as the wedding drew closer. But that look of content happiness was nothing compared to the absolute bliss on his face when he saw Quinn walking down the aisle. Kurt had picked up some tips from 27 Dresses and immediately looked at the groom as Quinn started walking. After all, he _had_ picked out Quinn's wedding dress.

Blaine was clutching Kurt's hand rather tightly throughout the entirety of the ceremony, which was long and extremely religious and thus held no appeal for Kurt or half of Quinn's guests. All of the people Kurt didn't recognize (whom he immediately pegged at Doctor Tye's guests) looked perfectly happy with the long, repetitive prayers though.

Quinn and Doctor Tye exchanged traditional vows (Doctor Tye considered custom vows tacky, which had been the basis of his and Kurt's first argument. Quinn had obviously sided with her fiancé) and that was the first time Blaine's grip on his hand relaxed even infinitesimally. "Love you," he murmured just as the priest invited Quinn and Doctor Tye to share their first kiss as a married couple.

"Love you too," Kurt murmured, watching Quinn attempt her practiced church tongue right out of The Wedding Singer. "Just no proposals yet, okay?" Blaine chuckled as they stood up to cheer, Quinn and Doctor Tye heading for the heavy oak doors to the church.

"Why don't we have rice?" Blaine asked.

"That's for after the reception, when the couple are headed to their honeymoon." Kurt replied. He had just caught sight of one of the bridesmaids (he had been at a bad vantage point considering he had planned half the wedding), and the dress she was wearing wouldn't have flattered anyone, not even someone as pretty as her. All the bridesmaids had this ugly dress, except for Rachel, who was wearing one of the dresses Kurt had picked out. Kurt frowned when he realized the couple had been messing with the plans 'they' had made, but let it go quickly. It was _their day_; he was just there to help. And sometime in the future, it would be his day, and he would be the world's first Groomzilla.

"And as for proposals, I think we're a little ways away from that," Blaine replied as they walked hand-in-hand out of the church, glad their legs hadn't fallen asleep during the long service. Kurt's butt was numb from the hard pew though. The girls in the church were rushing to get to Quinn, who was about to throw the bouquet. Kurt and Blaine arrived just in time to see the bouquet drop into a surprised Rachel's hands and all of the color drain out of Paul's face.

"He looks so terrified," Blaine muttered, and Kurt tried to laugh subtly as everyone waved while Quinn and Tye got into their limo to head to the reception, but he had never been good at subtle.

"Poor guy," Kurt joked, but he knew that Paul was good for Rachel and vice versa.

"I'm having horrible Rocky Horror deja vu right now," Blaine murmured, and Kurt couldn't help cracking up laughing. It was ridiculously funny because it had been exactly what he had been thinking.

"Ready for the reception?" Kurt asked once he had calmed down and Blaine gripped his hand tightly again.

"Not even a little bit."

* * *

Kurt insisted on driving, considering Blaine had to clench his hands together in the passenger seat to stop them from shaking. By the time they arrived at the reception, which was in the ballroom of the most glamorous hotel in Providence (which wasn't saying much), Blaine looked really to throw up, and Kurt stopped him from getting out of the car with a gentle hand once they had parked in the reserved wedding parking.

"Blaine, you are going to have a heart attack if you don't stop panicking! My friends are going to love you as much as I love your friends, and even if they don't, I don't care! Because I am absolutely, one-thousand-and-one percent in love with you, you idiot, and nothing my irresponsible, immature, judgmental, sophomoric friends have to say is going to change my mind! What do I have to do to convince you of that?" Kurt asked, practically yelling out of exasperation. "Why don't you-" Blaine shut him up with a kiss that left him breathless... and than a few more for good measure.

Because Kurt could get distracted by Blaine's kisses (and wandering hands, the man was a full-grown teenage horn-dog), there was a rap on Kurt's rapidly-fogging window. "This is _Quinn's_ wedding day, not _yours_! No getting some in the car!" Rachel's grating voice said from the outside, and the rush of pleasant spring air from her subsequently opening the door helped to cool the atmosphere in the car despite the warmth of the April air. "Come on, sweeties, time to face the firing squad! Remember the Alamo!" she yelled as she almost ran into the hotel, ignoring as always the startled looks she was getting from Providence residents who weren't used to bizarre New York people, who ran around like maniacs while looking like models. And Rachel _did_ look like a model, thanks to him, in a light green bridesmaid dress that accented the green belt on Quinn's dress, little silver stilettos (it was amazing she could run in them), and a _ton_ of make-up (she hadn't gotten a lot of sleep, she'd had to deal with Quinn's suddenly cold feet the previous night, which she spent apart from Doctor Tye, as tradition dictates).

"I'm definitely looking forward to meeting more people like _her_," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. "As if she's not enough of a handful." Kurt ignored the slights against his friends (he knew Blaine would actually really like them), and just settled for the fact Blaine no longer looked like a health hazard, taking his hand once they got out of the car and walking into the reception together.

Quinn had decided on a morning wedding for exactly this reason: lunch buffets were much classier than dinner buffets. So, she could have the DJ playing from the start, but people could choose whether to eat or dance, and once the crowd around the buffet table had lessened, they would be able to do traditional wedding type stuff. It was kind of completely ingenious.

"Kurt," Quinn immediately rushed up to him, "I hate to ask this of you, but I don't know where Rachel went, and I think Mercedes is in the men's room with Puck, and Santana and Brittany are already twined around each other on the dance floor and-"

"Quinn, my lovely darling, does this frantic rant have a point to it that you might reach before I'm old and gray?" Kurt asked, Blaine chuckling until he was silenced by a glare from Quinn.

"Bathroom, please?" Quinn asked, looking up at Kurt with pleading eyes, and there was no chance that he could say no. She obviously really needed to.

"Just... try not to get killed while I'm gone," was all Kurt said to Blaine before he disappeared with a hurried bride, leaving Blaine all alone.

"Hey, dude!" Finn walked up to him and clapped him (a little roughly) on the back. "Where's Kurt?"

"Quinn needed someone to assist her in the ladies room," Blaine replied, unable to resist making a face. Finn just laughed.

"Yeah, I'm sure he's having a blast too. Have you met the gang yet?"

"No, but I'm pretty sure Kurt wanted to-" He didn't finish his sentence, he didn't get the chance. Finn was dragging him towards a group of laughing, drinking friends, a couple of which he recognized from brief glimpses (Sam and Paul) and some of which immediately intimidated him.

"Guys, this is Blaine, whom we've all heard so much about." Rachel smiled and grabbed his hand, and Blaine wasn't inclined to stop her. As annoying as she could be, she really was a good person, and he could use the support.

"Ah, so you're the guy that's been chasing Hummel's sweet ass all year?" Blaine recognized the voice dimly from the previous summer. It had been making an inappropriately sexual comment at that time to.

"You could say that," Blaine hedged. "Puck, right?"

"Ah, great, has Hummel been telling you how awful I am? Dude, I'm so sorry for the obsession, but he has had this issue admitting he's attracted to me since we first met." Blaine swallowed. Time to see how this was actually going to go.

"Actually, he hasn't mentioned anything about you. I just remember your voice from when Kurt was in Los Angeles with you guys." Puck gaped and Finn grinned, before leveling a glare at Puck.

"And no checking out my brother's ass, dude," Finn ordered, and Puck shrugged.

"Tell that to him, dude. Your brother's not exactly my type."

"Ignore them, they've been bickering like children since they _were_ children." If Blaine had to guess, and unfortunately he did, he would guess this was Mercedes. Kurt and she talked all the time, especially about Puck (that didn't count), and he wasn't really that afraid of meeting her.

"You must be Mercedes, right?" Blaine asked, almost one hundred percent confident and holding out a hand to shake.

"You a business guy or something?" Mercedes asked, looking at the hand with a little bit of disdain that was poorly hidden. When Blaine slowly withdrew his hand, not expecting that kind of snobbery from Kurt's best friend, Mercedes cracked up laughing, grabbing and shaking his hand. "Kidding, but you've looked shit scared all day and I thought I would freak you out a little more."

"Rest assured it does not go unappreciated," Blaine said, sarcasm dripping off every word. Mercedes just laughed some more.

"Well, since my boy's been so absolutely crazy with you for so long I can completely skip the 'don't screw and leave' speech, and skip right to the 'if you hurt my boy I will break every bone in your body including some of the tiny ones in your wrist that are really hard to break' speech. Clear?"

"Crystal," Blaine said, gulping. Where was Kurt?

"Mercedes," Kurt headed across the crowded dance floor like his guardian angel. "Are you traumatizing my boyfriend?"

"Just a little bit," Mercedes said unrepentantly, and Kurt smiled, giving her a hug and then kissing the side of Blaine's head.

"Who've you met?" Kurt asked, Mercedes turning her attention back to the bickering that was still going on between Finn and Puck.

"Just Puck and Mercedes," he answered honesty, wishing in that moment he had the steel nerves required to lie to Kurt and face the wrath of his raised eyebrows. Kurt made a 'tsk' sound and grabbed another girl.

"Tina, this is Blaine Anderson, my boyfriend. Blaine, this is Tina Abrams. She lives in Los Angeles with her husband Artie, who's over there," Kurt said, pointing to a man in a wheelchair," and is a dance teacher." Tina offered a hand to shake wordlessly and Blaine shook it.

"Kurt, now I think _you_ need to relax. You're making this into speed dating." Kurt sighed as Tina wandered off.

"I just... my friends all have their elephants in the room, and I really didn't want you to step on any."

Blaine took a moment to twist Kurt's sentence together in his head and decided the countertenor had messed up his metaphor. ""Are you nervous about me meeting your friends now? Have the tables turned?"

"Blaine, don't get me wrong," Kurt began, wringing his hands, "I am _incredibly_ proud to be with you, and I don't care if my friends hate you. But I do _hope_ they like you. They _are_ important to me." Blaine smiled and kissed his boyfriend softly to prevent him from biting his lips.

"I know, but if I'm not allowed to be nervous, neither are you."

"And if we're not allowed to make out," a Latin woman announced loudly, heading for them, "neither are you." In complete and utter contrast to her words, she gave Kurt a long hug, and the bubbly blonde she had been holding hands with kissed him right on the mouth.

"Uh..." was the most articulate thing Blaine could come up with, but the first woman glared at him and his question died in his throat.

"Blaine Anderson, this is Mrs. and Mrs. Santana and Brittany Lopez," Kurt announced, gesturing between the two of them.

"And you're the guy Hummel's been obsessed with since last Christmas. I swear, he wasn't even this nuts about Adam, and he practically stalked the poor guy." Kurt glared at her, and she shrugged.

"Kurt's a unicorn sent from heaven and I love him," the blonde said randomly, and Kurt smiled at her. Blaine was sure he was gaping, and sure enough...

"Open your mouth wider, Anderson, and Hummel might take advantage of you right here and now," Santana said, raising an eyebrow and effectively causing him to shut his mouth. Kurt just ignored the comment with his usual grace.

"Did Quinn really have to explicitly tell you ladies not to make out at her wedding?" Kurt asked, disapproval and humor coloring his voice.

"Just on the dance floor. Speaking of which..." Santana grabbed Brittany's hand and dragged her behind the bar, towards the bathroom.

"No one go in the ladies room for a while, Brittana is in there," Kurt said, and some of the girls groaned. "I apologize for them, there's a long story behind that particular marriage. Santana's always been that crude, and Brittany, while incredibly sweet and a magnificent dancer, has always been in her own little world. Santana's the only person who can really explain things to her, and she's still convinced I'm a unicorn from my run for Senior Class President, which is another long story."

"Lots of history?"

"Lots of history," Kurt confirmed, "but Santana seemed to approve of you, so I think you just garnered the favor of the scariest member of the 2011-2012 New Directions."

"That was _approving_ of me?" Blaine asked, and Kurt nodded.

"Approval Santana-style at least." Kurt scanned around for more people for Blaine to meet, and his eyes almost bulged out of his head. "Joe!" More than one person's head snapped to Kurt's shout, but only one of them grinned and came over. He had dark brown hair, cut short and styled almost like Taylor Lautner's, a nose ring, and a big smile.

"Kurt, my amigo, how are you?" Kurt hugged him quickly.

"I thought you were still in the peace core."

"I am, but I had to come see the nicest, prettiest, best-smiling girl I've ever met get married," Joe said, and obviously there was more history there because Kurt laughed along with him.

"I have to say it, Doctor Tye isn't exactly the kind of person I imagined her settling down with, but he's a great guy. Don't worry too much about your angel."

"I won't. And who's this?" Oh look, someone noticed he existed.

"Oh, Joe, this is my boyfriend Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is Joe Hart, God Squad extraordinare."

"Very funny," Joe said, rolling his eyes and shaking the hand Blaine offered. "We solved this like a billion years ago."

"Tell that to the other members of your religion," Kurt retaliated, but there was no vitriol behind it.

"It's nice to see you too, Kurt," a man said from behind Kurt, and the countertenor jumped high enough to make any Olympian proud. "Glad to see you haven't lost your sass."

"Mike!" Kurt exclaimed without turning around to see an Asian man who was holding hands with a black man, who nodded at Blaine and gave him a smile. "Matt, you're..." Kurt trailed off, eyes completely fixated on where their hands were conjoined. "What..." Both of them laughed at Kurt's confusion, but Kurt looked thoroughly perplexed.

"You really didn't think we seemed just a little bit _too_ close in high school?" Mike asked.

"Well, of course I thought that, but I was looking for signs I might not be the only creature of my species at McKinley and thought I was looking too far into it. And then Matt moved and... _are you two married_?" Kurt practically shrieked, obviously having seen the matching gold rings.

"Yes," Matt said, and Mike smiled at him.

"We're Mr. and Mr. Rutherford-Chang. I argued, but I have to admit it does sound better."  
"How do you argue with someone that speaks in one word sentences?" Kurt asked, and then jolted back like he was surprised at his own boldness. Mike just laughed.

"You would be surprised how verbose he is." Matt colored, and Kurt and Blaine got at _exactly_ the same time what Mike was alluding to. Kurt's eyes became cartoon-esque saucers, and Mike looked ready to piss his pants laughing.

"I don't... You two... I need to sit down," Kurt said, clutching his head. Blaine rolled his eyes at his boyfriend's dramatic antics and wrapped an arm around his waist.

"So, now that you've delved into our lives, I guess we get to delve into yours. Hello, Mr. Mystery Silent Man, I'm Mike Rutherford-Chang, and this is my husband Matt," Mike said casually, releasing Matt's hand to shake Blaine's. Kurt fake-swooned, leaning heavily on Blaine.

"Blaine Anderson, and you already know my boyfriend, Kurt," he introduced himself similarly, shaking Mike's hand with the arm he wasn't using to hold up Kurt.

"Kurt passed out from stress already?" the man Kurt had introduced as Artie asked, rolling himself into the conversation. "Hey Matt, Mike... woah."

"Hey," they said simultaneously, obviously getting a kick out of the surprise that would be on all of their friends' faces for the rest of the night.

"I should have known," was Artie's much more reasonable reaction, "not only did you two act like Brittana half the time, but Brittany made a stray comment once."

"I still don't know how she found out about us," Matt said quietly, but Kurt fake-fainted into Blaine again.

"Matt speaking, both of you gay or bi and _married_. Oh dearie me," Kurt said dramatically, and Blaine just chuckled, kissing the side of Kurt's head.

"How do you put up with him?" Mike asked, and Blaine just shrugged. He thought Kurt was adorable, he always had.

"Speaking of that, who are you?" Artie asked, making them all laugh.

"Artie, this is my boyfriend, Blaine Anderson." Artie's eyes widened, and Blaine had the odd feeling Artie knew something the others didn't.

"Blaine Anderson, related to Matt Bomer slash Cooper Anderson?" Blaine sighed, and nodded. Kurt raised an eyebrow. "As in, rich Daddy got him into show business but he's actually doing pretty well, Matt Bomer slash Cooper Anderson?"

"Blaine, you didn't tell me your brother was _Matt Bomer_."

"Please tell me you didn't see _Magic Mike_."

"I cannot make you that promise. Also, don't go through my DVD collection quite yet. Especially not the Blu-Rays."

"Oh dear God." Artie, Mike, and Matt were all dying laughing at this point.

"What did I miss?" Tina asked, dropping onto Artie's lap like it was totally normal. Well, to them, it probably was.

"Blaine here is unfortunately related to my drama king on set, Matt Bomer." Tina laughed so hard she snorted.

"You're working with my brother?" Blaine asked, and Artie nodded. "I am _so_ sorry. I assure you I am nothing like him."

"Oh, I know." Blaine raised an eyebrow, trying not to get mad and thinking Cooper had been complaining about him. "If you were anything like your brother, Kurt would have killed you by now and you would be in such small pieces that the cops would never find any of them."

"Well that's very... specific," was the only reply Blaine had, "and probably very true."

"Sorry, I just got finished stinting on a cop show," Artie said with a shrug. "That comment mildly resembles a case I spent a week trying to make less stereotypical of bad cop shows. It was very difficult." Blaine laughed at that. He only put up with his boyfriend's obsession with NCIS because... well, Kurt was cute. And hot. And very attracted to Michael Weatherly.

"I bet."

"Artie, how are you?" the accent on the voice behind him was so thick, he would have sworn it was fake, but Kurt did tell him one of the New Directions had been a foreign exchange student from Ireland.

"Rory, my man, glad to be back in the States?" Artie asked, offering a fist to bump that Rory accepted.

"I'm certainly glad to have him back," said a shrill voice, and a petite, stick-thin woman with pin-straight brown hair walked up to them and gave Rory a kiss on the cheek.

"Sugar, haven't see you since you dumped me," Artie said, but he didn't sound terribly bothered.

"Well, you do live on the west coast." Was her name really Sugar? Who would name their child Sugar? "Introduce me to everyone!" Sugar demanded of Rory, who looked equally as lost.

"Sugar, this is my boyfriend Blaine Anderson. Blaine, this is Sugar Motta, sole heir to the Motta fortune and certified psychopath with magpie-ic tendencies-"

"Ha ha."

"And self-diagnosed Asperger's," Kurt continued. "Sugar, that's Matt Rutherford-Chang, Mike's _husband_."

"Mike, you're a queen?" she shrieked, but she didn't sound offended or disparaging. She sounded excited. "I love queens!" Sugar (that had to be her real name, poor thing) grabbed Mike in a hug, which he returned, and then Matt, who looked sincerely uncomfortable but hesitantly hugged her back when he realized she probably wouldn't let him go until he did.

"Oh dear God," Blaine said, echoing Kurt's earlier words.

"At least she's not scary," Kurt murmured in reply.

"Touche."

Before Kurt could reply, the distinctive ring of a fork hitting a crystal glass filled the room. "Attention everyone," Rachel said with a big smile. "The bride and the groom need no big entrance because they've been eating along with the rest of us, but they, and by they I mean the lovely bride, insisted, so it is time for some introductions. My name is Rachel Berry, I am the maid of honor. My fellow master of ceremonies is Oscar Shrader, the best man."

"Thanks, Rachel, and wow, I feel like a newscaster." The jokes felt a little forced, but it was nice anyway that Rachel and Shrader (who Doctor Tye had maturely called "Shredder" all throughout planning, making Quinn roll her eyes) had split up the responsibilities. "Coming in here is the mother of the bride, a radiant reflection of her beautiful daughter, Miss Judy Fabray. Following Miss Fabray is Quinn's father Mr. Russell Fabray."

"Miss Milana Luchic, mother of the groom, follows, lead by Mr. Finnegan Hudson." Blaine's eyes bulged out of his head. _Finn_, the bride's ex-boyfriend, was leading the groom's mother into the reception hall. "Unfortunately, Mr. Jervis Lockwood is unable to join us for this joyful occasion. May he rest in peace." There was a moment of silence during which Blaine sincerely wondered if Quinn had scripted this _entire event_ for Rachel, because only one of her sentences had started with 'I', 'me', or 'my'. Either that or Quinn gave her a personality transplant while no one was looking.

"The wedding party stands behind the lovely Miss Berry and I, and I'm sure you'll meet them later. Following their parents are Dr. and Mrs. Tye McClellan Lockwood." Everyone cheered as Quinn and Doctor Tye walked in, looking completely happy and in love. Doctor Tye was so busy looking at his beautiful bride that he almost tripped over his own feet. "Dr. Tye M. Lockwood, smooth as always, and for some reason, they let this clumsy oaf around people's _brains_." That got a few laughs.

Quinn's parents and Doctor Tye's mom sat down as the strains of their wedding song began to play. On this, at least, they had taken his advice, and they danced to a wonderful classic, _I Can't Help Falling in Love With You_ by Elvis Presley. There was no technique to their dance, no particular choreography, but no one cared. About halfway through the following song (_A Moment Like This_ by Kelly Clarkson), the bridal party joined them on the dance floor, Rachel dancing with Shredder and Finn returning to his seat. At the beginning of the third song, the rest of the party that wanted to dance joined them, Kurt pulling Blaine out of his seat and not giving him much of a choice.

Shredder gave Rachel to Paul at the end of the third song, and it was only about halfway through the fourth song that the music ended. "Hey, there, folks, sorry to crash the party, but someone has a little announcement to make, and Quinn was more than willing for it to happen right now. No one really cares about T-Lock's opinion at this point, because Quinn is the bride." Everyone laughed at that, and Shredder handed the microphone to a nervous-looking Paul.

"You're thinking what I'm thinking, right?" Kurt asked.

"There's more than one reason Paul turned white when Rachel got the bouquet."

"And there's a reason Quinn threw it to her."

"Thank you, Quinn, for giving me an audience for this. Rachel, I know it's not a Broadway audience, but it's everyone you love and quite a few people you don't know, so I hope this is an acceptable substitute." Rachel was gaping in the face of her third proposal (yes, sadly, Finn had tried again after high school. At least Brody never tried).

"Rachel Berry, you are the most amazing woman I have ever met. You're talented, driven, passionate, caring, brave, independent... I could go on and on. You took the hand that you were dealt with and became one of the best known Broadway stars of today. You wake up in the morning, drink breakfast in a cup, exercise, and look at the world as if it's brand new from the day before, and that is something I so admire about you. I am completely, one hundred and one percent in love with you, Rachel." Paul had been advancing on her for the entirety of his speech, and Rachel was already crying. "And if you would stop crying, would you make me the happiest man on earth? Rachel Berry, will you marry me?"

"Y-yes," the word caught in Rachel's throat. "Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!" Everyone cheered as Rachel threw herself into Paul's arms, and Finn gave Paul a thumb's up over Rachel's shoulder. Huh. That was new.

* * *

"That wasn't horrible," Blaine admitted later when they were cuddling in their hotel bed. As much as it pained Kurt to be away from the city, leaving Providence after the wedding wasn't practical, and they were in no rush. "Your friends, for all their personality, attitude, and insanity, are pretty wonderful."

"They liked you. I knew they would." Blaine ignored the opportunity to point out Kurt's previous doubts and gave him a soft kiss.

"The toasts were utter madness, though," Blaine commented once he had to detach himself from Kurt for oxygenic purposes.

"Toasts at Glee weddings are always crazy. You should have seen my dad's Glee wedding. Finn made up a word that rhymes with 'fart' and is still used today, and there was a whole, choreographed musical number involved. This was _nothing_." Blaine chuckled, rubbing his thumb over Kurt's cheekbone.

"I love you."

"Well that was random."

"I meant it."

"I know. I love you too." Kurt snuggled closer to Blaine, despite insisting that Blaine was the cuddler in their relationship.

"You do realize..." Blaine said hesitantly, aware he was pushing the envelope but knowing that if there was any time to do it, it was now, "I can see this... going somewhere."

"Somewhere permanent, you mean?" Kurt asked, and they were both avoiding the same word. _Forever_. "Me too. Honestly, I've been able to see it go somewhere since I met you in the coffee shop in March. You're cute scruffy." Blaine chuckled at that, knowing Kurt meant what he said even though he was teasing Blaine while saying it.

"So are you, but I know I'll never be able to convince you of that."

"Never," Kurt promised, leaning forward to kiss him. Once again, oxygen got in their way, and when they parted, Kurt whispered the forsaken word. "_Forever_. I want to be with you forever."

"Ditto," Blaine said, making Kurt giggle and lightening the mood. "You know what?"

"What?"

"It's twelve-oh-three."

"We should probably go to bed then."

"That's not what I was thinking."

"Oh?"

"All of our important moments happen on Sundays."

Kurt started humming the Pink Panther theme song.

* * *

**A/N: Hahahaha yes, I had to add the Pink Panther theme song one more time! I intended to post this yesterday, but unfortunately I am very sick and it completely slipped my mind, so I apologize. This is it for this fic, folks! I hope you enjoyed :)**


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